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•Jeriime  sprani:  ijuickly  foward" 


Frontispiece) 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great 


A  Story  of  the  New  South 


By 


JOHN     JORDAN     DOUGLASS 


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BROADWAY    PUBLISHING    CO, 
835   BROADWAY,  NEW  YORK 


Copyright.  1908. 

BY 

JOHN    JORDAN    DOUGLASS 


All  Rights  Reserved 


To  Annie  Rumley, 

my  little  daughter, 

who  left  us,  zvith 

the  fall  of  leaves, 

in  the  golden  Autumn. 


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CONTENTS* 


CHAPTER  I.                          PAGE. 
A  Youthful  Orator 1 

CHAPTER  II. 
Braided  Cords 7 

CHAPTER  III. 
A  Bit  of  Southern  Chivalry 13 

CHAPTER  IV. 
The  Picnic 18 

CHAPTER  V. 
A  Blow  in  the  Dark 23 

CHAPTER  VI. 
An  Urgent  Call 32 

CHAPTER  VII. 
Some  Surprises 43 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
The  Keen  Edge  of  Disappointment 51 

CHAPTER  IX. 
The  Irony  of  Fate 55 

CHAPTER  X. 
The  White  Visitor 61 


li  Contents. 

CHAPTER  XI.                          PAGE. 
An  Appeal  to  the  Primitive 67 

CHAPTER  XII. 
The  Foreclosure  of  the  Mortgage 75 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
The  New  Woman  and  the  New  Man 81 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
Revelations  at  Riverwood 88 

CHAPTER  XV. 
An  Exceeding  High  Mountain 101 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
A  Disturbed  Doctor HI 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
The  Silent  Struggle 119 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
The  Meeting  in  the  Turpentine  Orchard 127 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
The  Mettle  of  a  Man 135 

CHAPTER  XX. 
The  Coming  of  the  College  President 143 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
Major  Graves  Goes  South 151 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
The  Parting  of  the  Ways 162 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
The  Coils  of  Commercialism 169 


Contents.  iu 

CHAPTER  XXIV.  page 

The  Mania  of  the  Mob 174 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
"The  Mills  of  the  Gods" 183 

Epilogue 193 


THE  GIRDLE  OF  THE  fiREAT 


CHAPTER  I. 

A  YOUTHFUL  ORATOR. 

In  the  heart  of  a  great  Southern  plantation, 
on  a  hill  overlooking  the  golden  waters  of  the 
Pee  Dee,  guarded  by  gigantic  oaks,  and  begirt 
with  rose-bushes  and  noney-suckles,  stood  some 
years  ago  a  stately  whit^and-green  house.  Its 
broad  verandas,  massive  Auted  columns  and  airy 
rooms  all  marked  it  an  ante-bellum  mansion. 

A  certain  bright  April  day,  quivering  in  the 
violet  veil  of  the  dawn,  suddenly  sent  a  stream 
of  soft,  silvery  light  through  the  wide  east  win- 
dows. Without,  in  highway,  byway,  orchard 
and  open,  numerous  feathered  songsters  trilled 
and  piped  a  merry  matinee.  The  smell  of  new- 
turned  earth  and  bursting  blossom,  mingled  with 
the  delicate  and  delightful  aroma  of  long-leaf 
pines,  was  in  the  air.  Along  the  broad  river 
meadows  ragged  gray  wisps  of  mist  rose,  and, 
curling  smoke-like  toward  the  turquoise  sky,  left 
for  the  gaze  a  splendid  stretch  of  dew-washed 
emerald,  flecked  here  and  there  with  snowy 
sheep. 


2  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

As  if  to  drink  the  wine  of  beauty  from  the 
chalice  of  the  morning,  a  tall,  spare-built,  dark- 
eyed,  dark-haired  youth  hurried  down  the  man- 
sion steps,  and  entered  a  road,  which  led  through 
the  plantation  to  the  river.  His  brisk,  elastic  step 
betrayed  a  rich  fund  of  nervous  energy,  as  did 
also  the  rather  restless — though  altogether  de- 
termined— expression  of  his  thin,  tanned  face. 
His  Indian-like  cheek-bones,  prominent  nose  and 
square  Scotch  chin  conspired  to  impose  an  in- 
superable barrier  to  his  admission  within  the 
charmed  circle  of  "Masculine  Beauties."  But  in 
the  breadth  of  his  forehead,  in  the  beam  of  his 
bright  eyes,  no  less  than  in  the  quiet  strength  of 
his  firmly  moulded  mouth,  were  written  tnastery 
and  living  fire.  In  fact,  Jerome  Watkins'  ex- 
traordinary character  had  early  won  for  him,  in 
the  Pee  Dee  country,  the  sobriquet  of  "Steady 
Romey."  (And,  if  it  is  not  too  painful  to  the 
memory  of  one  rollicking  rustic,  it  might  be  deli- 
cately added  that  a  neighbor  who  once  unwit- 
tingly placed  a  bare  No.  lo  foot  on  a  yellow- 
jacket's  nest,  remarked  afterwards  that  "the 
durned,  pesky  little  critters  wuz  blamed  nigh  ez 
busy  as  Romey  Watkins.") 

There  was  an  unwonted  seriousness  in  the 
youth's  face  as  he  continued  his  course  toward 
the  river.  He  seemed  almost  oblivious  of  his 
surroundings.  The  brimming  melody  of  the 
morning  failed  to  arouse  the  ardor  of  his  spirits. 
He  knit  his  brows  and  passed  his  hand  across  his 
forehead  in  a  manner  which  bespoke  a  struggle 
with  perplexing  problems,  or  a  frantic  mental- 
clutching  at  the  coat-tails  of  a  fleeting  idea.    The 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  3 

profligate  spender  of  life  would  have  marveled 
that  one  so  youthful — indeed,  he  was  scarcely 
one  -  and  -  twenty — should  harbor  a  serious 
thought.  Nevertheless,  it  was  true;  Jerome  was 
troubled.  He  could  draw  near  enough  to  a  cer- 
tain coveted  goal,  only  to  realize  that,  like  the 
pot  of  gold  at  the  foot  of  the  rainbow  in  the 
story-books,  it  was  just  beyond  his  grasp. 

Suddenly  the  tense  muscles  of  his  face  re- 
laxed. Snatching  off  his  broad-brimmed  pal- 
metto hat,  he  sent  it  spinning  upward.  "Whoop- 
ee, that'll  do  'em!"  he  cried  ecstatically. 

Finally  he  reached  a  spot  on  the  river  bank 
marked  by  a  clumi..  of  willows  and  a  huge  boul- 
der of  red  sandstone.  At  no  great  distance  an 
old  negro  was  industriously  plowing  a  mule. 
Assuring  himself  that  there  were  no  other  audi- 
tors, Jerome  mounted  the  rock  and  began  a 
speech  on  the  "Neiv  South." 

He  vociferously  recited  facts  which,  though 
often  crudely  expressed,  bespoke  unusual  reach 
and  research  for  a  country  youth  just  entering 
his  majority. 

"Slavery,"  he  declared,  speaking  of  the  old 
regime  then  twenty  odd  years  past,  "had  more 
power  to  harm  the  white  man  than  to  harm  the 
negro.  The  former  had  everything  in  the  gift 
of  a  great  nation  to  gain  by  individual  effort,  the 
latter  nothing;  the  former  faced  a  golden  fu- 
ture, the  latter  an  unwritten  page. 

"Under  slavery,  there  could  have  come  to  the 
white  man  no  great  mental  impetus — no  incen- 
tive to  keep  pace  with  the  stride  of  a  strenuous 
civilization.     The  proclamation  which  freed  the 


4  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

slaves  struck  the  shackles  from  thousands  of  poor 
white  men,  bearing  the  brand  of  hirelings,  giv- 
ing them  an  equal  chance  with  the  former  slave- 
owners." 

The  speaker  affirmed  that  the  overshadowing 
present-day  problem  of  the  South  did  not  then 
present,  and  never  had  presented,  difficulty  as  to 
former  slaves;  that  the  burden  of  crime  in  the 
Black  Belt  rested  not  upon  them,  but  upon  a 
post-bellum  generation,  with  whom  education  was 
a  string  of  beads  and  religion  a  fetich;  who  left 
the  farms  to  infest  towns  and  cities  like  insects 
lured  by  the  light  of  a  candle,  Yet,  the  youthful 
orator  believed  a  better  and  brighter  day  would 
dawn.  This  great  and  grievous  problem  would 
eventually  find  its  solution  in  a  proper  moral,  re- 
ligious and  industrial  training  of  the  negro  race 
— in  an  education  which  taught  the  black  man  to 
recognize  and  respect  rather  than  to  recklessly 
disregard  the  limitations  placed  upon  him  by  na- 
ture. 

This  speech  was  brought  to  sudden  close  by  a 
loud  splash  in  the  water  nearby.  Jerome  quickly 
glanced  around  to  discover  the  cause  of  the  com- 
motion. 

It  was  highly  important  that  he  should  not  be 
overheard  by  some  parties.  Perceiving  a  great, 
green-mottled  bullfrog  seated  nearby,  he  con- 
cluded that  the  commotion  had  been  created  by  a 
nervous  member  of  that  raucous  tribe. 

Nevertheless,  he  decided  to  discontinue  his 
speech. 

Entering  the  plot  where  the  old  neg^  was 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  5 

plowing,  he  cried:  "What  were  you  throwin'  at. 
Uncle  Sam?" 

"Frowin'  at?"  queried  the  old  negro,  giving 
the  mule  a  peremptory  jerk.  "I  ain't  bin  frowin' 
at  nuffin',  'cept  cusses  at  dis  debblish  an'  decebin' 
mule.    Whatcher  mean,  Marse  Romey?" 

"Oh,  nothin' — did  you  hear  me  speakin'?" 
asked  the  youth,  dropping  with  evident  relief  his 
oratorical  "ings." 

"Co'se  I  did,  chile,  co'se  I  did,  w'en  you  wuz  er 
floppin'  erroun'  in  yo'  gwineson  lak  er  bullfrog 
wid  de  broivn-skeeters^' — des  erbusin'  an'  er  run- 
nin' 
down  an'  er  scan'lizin'  po'  ole  hones'  niggers."   ■ 

"I  haven't  been  doin'  that,  Uncle  Sam,"  replied 
the  young  man,  a  fond  light  in  his  dark  eyes ;  "I 
think  too  much  of  you  for  that;  we  have  a  De- 
batin'  Society  up  at  the  Academy,  and  a  gold 
medal  is  to  be  awarded  to  the  boy  who  makes  the 
best  speech  Commencement  night.  Your  race  is 
to  be  the  subject  of  the  Debate.  I  will  say  that 
you  can  be  made  better  by  religion,  and  that  mil- 
lions of " 

"Dat's  de  truf— dat's  de  Gawd's  truf— Marse 
Romey,"  ejaculated  the  old  man,  with  a  grin 
which  set  his  teeth  a-gleam  like  white  seed  in  a 
red-meat  watermelon,  "des  tek  de  Mefodis'  praar- 
book  in  one  han'  an'  er  watermillion  un'er  de  t'er 
arm,  an'  you  kin  led  dis  heah  nigger  clean  ter  de 
deb— I  means  ter  de  pearly  gates,  Marse  Romey," 
he  corrected  quickly — "Wha!  wha!  wha!"  With 
that  the  old  man  resumed  the  burden  and  the 

♦Bronchitis, 


6  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

mule,  leaving  Jerome  fairly  bent  double  with 
laughter. 

"Don't  mention  what  I've  said  to  a  livin'  soul, 
Uncle  Sam,"  said  Jerome  earnestly  when  the  old 
negro  had  returned  to  the  end  of  the  row,  "spe- 
cially to  Gabe  Allen ;  he's  on  the  other  side." 

"You  knows  I  woan',  you  knows  I  woan', 
honey,"  came  the  ready  though  somewhat  pride- 
injured  response.  (He  had  ever  been  a  stickler 
for  the  family  fidelity.)  "Ole  Sam  ain't  gwine 
ter  gib  you  erway,  dat  he  ain't." 

Then,  well  pleased  with  his  progress,  and  con- 
fident that  his  secret  would  be  secure — even  if  old 
Sam  knew  enough  to  be  communicative — Jerome 
returned  home,  whistling  merrily.  The  shining 
mark,  toward  which  he  had  been  steadily  press- 
ing since  the  fall  opening  of  the  "Pee  Dee  Acad- 
emy," seemed  nearer  than  ever.  It  was  an  honor 
worth  striving  for ;  and,  moreover,  it  meant  to 
the  winner  a  scholarship  at  "Forest  College." 

Now,  though  at  one  time  accounted  the  wealthi  - 
est  planter  along  the  Pee  Dee,  certain  financial 
embarrassments  had  prevented  Col.  Watkins  from 
giving  Jerome  the  advantage  of  a  college  educa- 
tion. Above  all  things  (even  above  the  ambrosial 
cup  of  artful  Cupid)  Jerome  thirsted  for  the 
sparkling  waters  of  the  Empyrean  Spring.  But, 
according  to  ancient  proverb,  "There's  many  a 
slip  'twixt  the  cup  and  the  lip." 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great 


CHAPTER  II. 

BRAIDED    CORDS. 

Commencement  Day  had  arrived.  The  seating 
capacity  of  the  Academy  being  insufficient,  a 
great  bush-arbor  had  been  erected  adjoining  the 
front  entrance.  Rude  slabs  served  for  seats;  a 
layer  of  sawdust  for  flooring. 

On  every  hand  rose  the  "stands"  of  the  inevita- 
ble and  indispensable  lemonade-vendors. 

Suddenly  a  reverential  "sh-h"  rippled  over  the 
audience,  and  Mr.  MacDonald,  the  orator  of  the 
day,  and  President  of  the  bank  at  Ansonville,  a 
town  about  five  miles  distant,  arose,  cleared  his 
throat,  and,  adjusting  his  glasses,  announced  as 
his  theme,  "Our  Commercial  Opportunitv." 

Jerome  was  seated  with  his  parents 'and  two 
younger  brothers  near  the  center  of  the  audience. 
His  attention  was  instantly  riveted,  not — strange 
to  say— upon  the  speaker,  but  upon  a  beautiful 
blonde  maiden,  who  had  been  partially  concealed 
behind  the  speaker's  back.  Her  exquisitely- 
molded  oval  face  seemed  to  the  youth  a  perfect 
model  of  feminine  sweetness  and  strength.  Dark- 
blue  eyes,  with  a  bewitching,  fascinating  expres- 
sion, instantly  melted  their  way  into  his  heart— 
smce,  at  one-and-twenty,  hearts  are  seldom  ossi- 


8  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

fied.  He  eventually  found  himself  almost  unable 
to  divert  his  attention  from  her. 

The  speaker's  sturdy  logic  about  the  climatic 
advantages,  the  water-power,  the  mineral  re- 
sources of  the  South  marched  forth  slowly  and 
steadily — an  infantry  of  cold  facts,  well  groomed, 
mailed  and  armored — but  Jerome  heard  not.  A 
strange  ecstacy  thrilled  him.  He  began  to  dream 
indefinite  and  indefinable  dreams.  The  glittering 
gold,  which  had  for  months  exclusively  held  his 
attention,  faded  into  floating  fairy  visions.  He 
had  felt  the  touch  of  the  master-passion.  Thence- 
forth his  path  was  to  lead  beside  love-lit  waters, 
through  primroses  and  pansies,  along  the  crest  of 
hills  wound  with  trailing-arbutus  and  wreathed 
in  golden  mist. 

He  was  so  lost  in  fancy  that  he  started  vio- 
lently at  the  hearty  applause  which  greeted  the 
close  of  the  banker's  address. 

"Why,  what  ails  you.  Romey?"  exclaimed  Col. 
Watkins,  glancing  quickly  around.  "What  made 
you  jump  so?" 

"He's  been  thinking  about  the  debate;  but  he'll 
be  all  right  when  the  time  comes — and  win  the 
medal,  too,"  interjxiscd  the  mother,  with  an  en- 
couraging smile. 

Jerome  refrained  from  speech.  Though  natu- 
rally quick  to  detect  and  correct  mistakes,  he  was 
quite  willing  to  accept  the  friendly  shelter  of  this 
one. 

His  youngest  brother.  Walter,  however,  who 
had  been  furtively  watching  him,  was  not  to  be 
so  easily  satisfied.     Before  the  mother  could  in- 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  9 

terfere,  he  pointed  to  the  rostrum  and  blurted 
out  in  a  loud  tone:  "No,  he  ain't  either;  I  seen 

him  lookin'  sweet  at  that  purty  gal!     I — I " 

The  mother  silenced  the  obstreperous  youngster 
with  a  frown.  Nevertheless,  a  titter,  begun  in 
the  vV^atkins'  vicinity,  went,  as  usual,  the  rounds 
of  the  audience.  The  girl  in  question,  who  had 
chanced  to  be  looking  toward  Jerome,  blushed 
crimson,  while  his  face  went — if  possible — a 
shade  beyond. 

Presently,  in  the  confusion  and  commingling 
of  the  departing  crowd,  Jerome  found  himself 
near  her.  In  a  moment  the  banker,  recognizing 
the  son  of  an  old  patron,  had  presented  Jerome 
to  Miss  Maxine  MacDonald. 

Jerome  heard  the  announcement  that  she 
would  visit  Marjoric  Allen  with  a  sharp  pang  of 
disappointment;  and  remembered  only,  as  they 
passed  on,  that  the  girl's  wonderful  blue  eyes  had 
looked  into  his  with  a  sweet,  half-startled  expres- 
sion, and  that  a  wave  of  rich  color  had  flooded 
her  fair  cheeks. 

He  found  it  extremely  difficult — well-nigh  im- 
possible— that  afternoon  to  confine  his  thoughts 
to  the  query  of  the  coming  debate,  especially 
since  he  frequently  saw  Gabriel  Allen  and  the 
banker's  niece  together. 

♦  *♦**♦♦ 

The  president  of  the  Debate  had  rapped  for 
order.  The  judges  of  the  contest,  including  Air. 
MacDonald,  had  taken  their  places.  When  quiet 
was  obtained,  the  secretary  rose  and  read  the 
query,  "Resolved,  that  the' Emancipation  of  the 
negro  has  been  injurious  to  the  South,"  and  an- 


10  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

nounced  the  first  speaker  on  the  affirmative.  Then 
Gabriel  Allen,  tall,  heavily  built  and  handsome, 
rose  amid  a  hearty  round  of  applause.  His  fair, 
smooth  face  was  flushed  with  anticipated  suc- 
cess; a  gleam  of  victory  shone  in  his  blue  eyes. 
He  began,  in  a  melifluent,  well-modulated  tone, 
to  review  the  causes  which  led  up  to  the  Emanci- 
pation of  the  Negro.  Then  little  by  little,  with 
the  soft,  confidential  strides  of  the  tiger,  he  ap- 
proached Jerome's  speech,  till  suddenly  he 
sprang  upon  it  and  punctured  it  with  the  sharp 
teeth  of  stinging  satire. 

Jerome's  face  went  white  as  death.  He  leaned 
far  over,  a  startled,  mystified  expression  in  his 
dark  eyes.  Had  old  Sam  betrayed  him?  H  not, 
by  some  machiavellian  art  or  instinct,  Gabe  Al- 
len was  making  his  speech — and  making  it  ridic- 
ulous before  the  one  to  whom,  above  all  others, 
he  wished  for  some  reason  to  present  a  fine  ap- 
pearance. 

"He  will  tell  you,"  continued  the  speaker, 
"that  the  negro  can,  by  morality  and  religion, 
be  made  a  better  citizen ;  but  I  know  and  you 
know  and  everybody  knows  that  more  stealing 
is  done  during  a  negro  camp-meeting  than  at  any 
other  time  (laughter  and  great  applause),  and 
that  the  biggest  shouters  are  the  biggest  stealers. 

"Give  us  the  good  old  ante-bellum  days,"  he 
concluded,  "with  the  niggers  happier,  healthier 
and  less  criminal ;  but  the  Lord  deliver  us  from 
a  New  South  with  an  old  sore." 

He  resumed  his  seat  amid  thunderous  ap- 
plause. Then  the  band  struck  up  "Dixie,"  and 
the  crowd  went  wild. 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  ii 

Jerome,  gazing  out  into  the  swirling  sea  of 
faces,  caught  at  last  the  reflected  gleam  of  tri- 
umph in  Maxine  MacDonald's  face.  He  stag- 
gered blindly  to  his  feet  in  response  to  the  call 
for  the  negative.  The  lights  flickered ;  the  audi- 
ence swam  before  him.  He  tried  to  speak,  but 
his  memory  suddenly  went  hopelessly  blank. 
Dazed  and  bewildered,  he  sank  into  his  seat  amid 
pamful  silence.  The  speeches  following  were 
colorless  and  inanimate.  Owing  to  Jerome's  fail- 
ure, there  were  no  rejoinders. 

The  judges  went  out  for  consultation  and  soon 
returned.  There  was  a  moment  of  tense  silence  • 
then  Mr.  MacDonald,  in  a  few  appropriate 
words,  presented  the  medal  to  Gabriel  Allen 
Jerome  sat  there  with  bowed  head  and  broken 
heart.  It  was  the  one  decided  failure— the  mini- 
ature crisis-of  his  life.  The  fact  that  he  had 
been  defeated  unfairly  was  no  recompense;  the 
audience  did  not  know  that. 

When  relatives  and  admiring  friends,  includ- 
mg  the  beautiful  Maxine  MacDonald,  came  to 
congratulate  Gabriel,  Jerome  crept  unobserved 
through  a  merciful  side-door,  and,  staggering 
weakly  out  to  his  father's  carriage,  leaned  for 
support  upon  a  wheel.  The  braided  cords  of  de- 
feat smote  to  the  quick  of  his  soul.  A  bitter  sob 
shook  his  frame.  "Oh,  God,"  he  cried,  "why  did 
I  fail,  why ?"  -^ 

There  was  a  sudden  rustling  movement  in  the 
rear,  and  he  turned  quickly  to  enter  the  arms  of 
his  mother,  who  had  followed  him. 

"My  precious  boy,"  she  said  softly,  pressing 
him  to  her  bosom  as  she  had  done  in  the  olden 


12 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great 


days.  "You  won't  always  fail — you  will  yet 
make  your  mark;  I  believe  in  you.  There  is  in 
you  the  making  of  a  man." 

He  started  to  reply,  but  at  the  moment  an  ap- 
proaching foot- fall  arrested  his  attention.  His 
father  was  near  at  hand,  and  the  boy  knew  him 
too  well  to  offer  any  explanation.  The  Colonel's 
motto  was  "Excelsior" 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  13 


CHAPTER  III. 

A  BIT  OF  SOUTHERN   CHIVALRY. 

It  is  needless  to  relate  that  Jerome  spent  a 
sleepless  night.  His  brain  was  in  a  whirl.  Chill- 
ing sensations  swept  over  him.  Despite  every 
effort  to  hate  her,  he  could  not  shake  off  his 
strange  infatuation  for  Maxine  MacDonald.  It 
held  him  with  an  iron  grip — and  yet  with  a  link 
of  gold. 

Bright  and  early  he  crept  from  his  room  and 
sought  the  spot  where  he  had  practiced  for  the 
debate.  As  he  was  passing  the  little  cabin,  a 
short  distance  below  the  house,  a  familiar  voice 
called  out :  "Lors-a-massy,  is  dat  you,  Marse  Ro- 
mey,  gwine  a-fishin'  in  de  cool  uv  de  mawnin'  ?" 

"No,  not  for  suckers,"  cried  the  youth,  quick- 
ening his  pace,  without  looking  back  at  the  black 
face  framed  in  the  cabin  window. 

"Fer  cats  den,  Marse  Romey?" 

"Yes,  for  black  cats  that  scratch  their  friends," 
retorted  Jerome,  turning  angrily  to  confront  the 
negro.  "Why  did  you  tell  Gabe  Allen  about  my 
speech?    I  lost  the  medal." 

The  old  negro's  countenance  fell  beneath  the 
sudden  weight  of  surprise,  and  he  leaned  far 
over  with  his  elbows  upon  the  narrow  window- 
sill,  in  an  attitude  of  utter  pain. 


14  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

"Fo'  Gawd,  I  ain't  tol'  him  nuffin',  Marse  Ro- 
mey,''  he  exclaimed,  brokenly. 

"Well,  come  and  go  with  me  then ;  maybe  you 
didn't,"  said  Jerome,  relenting.  (The  negro  in- 
stantly obeyed.)  "But  there's  some  mystery 
here." 

"Dat  I  didn't,  kase  I  lubs  vou  mos'  lak  I  do 
dem  dar  niggers,"  the  old  man  continued,  with 
a  toss  of  his  head  toward  two  ebony-hued  boys 
sitting  in  the  doorway.  Jerome  could  not  re- 
press a  smile  at  the  ludicrou,N  but  innocent  com- 
parison in  which  the  old  negro  classed  him  with 
BUI  and  Ben. 

When  they  reached  the  desired  spot,  Jerome 
revealed  his  purpose.  They  accordingly  climbed 
down  to  the  river-edge  of  the  great  rock, 
screened  from  land-view  by  a  thick  cluster  of 
reeds,  and  began  their  search.  At  first  it  seemed 
destined  to  prove  fruitless ;  there  was  no  evidence 
of  espionage.  Finally  Jerome  turned  to  leave. 
He  had  almost  cleared  the  rock,  when  he  noticed 
that  a  fragment,  where  it  was  seamed  and 
cracked,  had  been  recently  broken  oflf.  Stooping 
to  examine  this  more  closely,  he  caught  from  be- 
low at  the  left  base  of  the  reeds  a  swift  flash  of 
something  white.  Bending  over,  he  was  startled 
to  behold  that  it  was  an  envelope  thus  inscribed: 
"Miss  Maxine  MacDonald " 

The  town  and  state  were  so  blurred  by  a  re- 
cent rain  that  he  could  not  decipher  them.  Je- 
rome hastily  picked  up  the  envelope  and  thrust 
it  in  his  pocket,  saying  nothing  to  old  Sam,  who 
was  now  some  distance  away. 

Suddenly  the  sound  of  voices  and  the  rhythmic 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  15 

plash  of  paddles  broke  on  the  air.  They  came 
nearer  and  nearer.  Then,  as  a  boat  rounded  a 
bend  in  the  river  and  swept  in  sight,  Jerome  re- 
treated behind  the  reeds,  and  motioned  to  the 
negro  to  remain  quiet. 

In  a  few  moments  the  voices  could  be  plainly 
distinguished. 

"That  is  the  place — yonder  where  the  big  rock 
juts  out  into  the  water.  I  was  fishing.  Maybe  I 
lost  it  there!"  "At  any  rate,"  continued  the 
speaker,  "it  contained  a  photograph  and  a 
prophecy  that  came  true — that  I'd  win  the  De- 
bater's medal." 

"So  I  see  that  a  prophet  is  honored  in  his  own 
country."  "And,  by  the  way,"  continued  the 
feminine  voice,  "I  was  so  sorry  for  the  young 
man  who  failed;  he  has  such  a  fine  face;  he 
must  be  intelligent." 

"Humph!  he  has  a  poor  way  of  showing  it," 
exclaimed  her  companion  in  a  tone  of  irritation. 

By  this  time  the  keel  of  the  boat  had  grated 
on  the  rock,  and,  throwing  the  anchor-chain 
around  a  projecting  staub,  Gabriel  Allen — for  it 
was  he — leaped  ashore.  "I'll  be  back  in  a  mo- 
ment," he  called  to  his  companion. 

"I  hope  you  will  find  it,"  she  replied,  as  she 
playfully  ran  her  fingers  through  the  water  on 
either  side  of  the  boat. 

Suddenly,  before  Jerome  could  interfere,  old 
Sam  rushed  forward  and  confronted  Gabriel, 
crying,  with  all  the  family  pride  of  the  ante- 
bellum attache  ringing  in  his  voice : 

"Git  off'n  dis  heah  plantashun;  git  ofT'n  de 
Kun'el's  Ian',  rite  heah  whar  you  dun  stol'  Marse 


i6  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

Romey's  speech!  Whatcher  doin'  on  dis  side  uv 
de  rib " 

"Shut  up,  you  black  scoundrel,  or  I'll  make  you 
shut  up!"  cried  Gabriel,  purple  with  passion.  He 
clenched  his  fist  and  glared  savagely  at  the  old 
negro. 

"Dat  I  woan — dat  I  woan  on  de  Kun'el's " 

"Then  take  that,  you  kinky  headed  imp !"  Ga- 
briel leaped  forward  to  strike  the  old  negro  a 
terrific  blow  in  the  face,  but  in  a  twinkling  Je- 
rome VVatkins  rushed  between,  catching  the  full 
force  of  the  blow  on  his  chest.  A  moment  later 
he  had  rebounded,  and,  despite  every  effort  at 
resistance,  forced  Gabriel  slowly  backward  till  he 
stood  on  the  very  brink  of  the  river.  There 
Jerome  held  him  firmly  as  a  vise.  "You  should 
remember,"  he  gasped  with  suppressed  anger, 
"to  respect  the  presence  of  a  woman  and  age, 
even  in  a  nigger.  "As  to  your  stealin'  my 
speech " 

"You  lie!"  cried  Gabriel,  struggling  vainly 
to  break  the  grasp  of  his  assailant. 

"Hush!"  thundered  Jerome,  stifling  a  strong 
impulse  to  strike ;  "you  shall  not  speak  thus  be- 
fore her — go  your  way."  "And  go  it  quickly," 
he  added,  releasing  him. 

"Great  talk  for  my  father's  hirelings,"  sneered 
Gabriel,  as  he  turned  av/ay.  (It  was  a  reference 
to  the  mortgage  which  Dr.  Allen  held  on  River- 
wood.)  Jerome's  eyes  flashed  and  his  temples 
swelled  with  rage.  Only  by  dint  of  desperate  ef- 
fort he  controlled  himself.  "Go,"  he  gasped — 
"or  I'll  thrash  you  within  an  inch  of  your  life. 
Go !  I  say." 


You  lie  !'  cried  Gabriel." 


Faciiii;  f'ijgc  Id 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  17 

And  Gabriel  stood  not  on  the  order  of  his  go- 
ing, but  quickly  entered  the  boat,  where  Maxine 
sat,  pale  and  ill  at  ease. 

Before  the  boat  could  be  pushed  off,  however, 
Jerome  stepped  forward  and  gracefully  tossed 
the  letter  into  Maxine's  lap.  "That's  for  you, 
Miss  MacDonald,"  he  said  in  a  voice  still  tremu- 
lous with  passion. 

"Thanks,"  she  replied,  with  a  smile  which  sent 
his  heart  to  his  mouth. 

He  watched  them  till  they  disappeared  behind 
the  "Big  Bend,"  then,  calling  old  Sam,  he  went 
slowly  homeward  with  conflicting  emotions  stir- 
ring in  the  great  deep  of  his  .soul. 


i8  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   PICNIC. 

For  many  years  it  had  been  customary  to  hold 
at  Murray's  Mill,  on  a  tributary  of  the  Pee  Dee, 
an  annual  picnic.  To  this  well-watered  and  well- 
shaded  spot  the  folk  of  the  neighborhood,  old  and 
young,  were  wont  to  assemble  to  listen  to  open- 
air  speeches  and  to  make  bounteous  noonday 
"spreads."  So  accordingly  every  vehicle  which 
entered  the  great  oak  grove  contained,  some- 
where, a  brimming  basket,  or  mayhap  a  small 
clay-bank-colored  trunk  securely  strapped  on  be- 
hind. 

Hither,  in  the  early  morning  of  a  delightful 
June  day,  rode  Jerome  Watkins.  The  birds 
chirped  sweetly  in  every  leafy  avenue;  soft,  sil- 
very ripples  lay  upon  the  pond,  where  a  thousand 
water-lilies  drooped  their  glistening  heads.  In 
truth,  everything  accorded  with  the  youth's  spir- 
its. He  was  to  see  Maxine  this  day — to  be  near 
her — to  listen  to  the  dreamy  melody  of  her  voice. 

Eagerly  he  watched  every  incoming  buggy  and 
carriage.  Many  times  he  turned  away  a  dis- 
appointed face.  "Surely,  she  will  come,"  he  said 
aloud,  "if  only  Gabe  Allen  wouldn't  monopolize 
her  time.    He  always  has  the  advantage." 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  '19 

The  words  were  scarcely  out  of  his  mouth 
when,  as  if  to  confirm  them,  a  shining,  new  top- 
bugg-y  dashed  up;  and,  haughtily  throwing  his 
lines  to  a  nearby  negro,  Gabriel  leaped  out  to  as- 
sist Maxine  to  alight.  Though  Jerome  had  ex- 
pected them  to  come  together,  rather  than  in  the 
family  carriage,  his  heart  sank  at  the  sight.  He 
had  tried  to  make  an  engagement  with  Maxine 
for  the  occasion. 

A  dark  frown  gathered  on  Gabriel's  brow 
when  he  saw  Jerome,  but  Maxine  smiled  pleas- 
antly in  recognition.  Gabriel's  sharp  eyes  noted 
her  ill-concealed  delight.  Following  this,  nothing 
worth  relating  occurred  till  the  hour  for  the  ad- 
dress was  at  hand.  Then  people  began  to  ex- 
press anxiety  about  the  non-appearance  of  the 
speaker.  Several  minutes  passed,  and  still  he 
had  not  come.  Finally  it  became  evident  that  he 
would  not  arrive  in  time.  Some  of  the  leading 
(■•lanters  soon  began  to  cast  about  for  a  substitute 
(for  "Tar-heels" — even  those  who  snore  rau- 
cously through  a  sermon — have  a  decided  wake- 
fulness for  "stump-speeches").  Suddenly  one 
or  two  voices  shouted  :  "Allen !  Allen !  Gabriel 
Allen !"  There  was  no  response ;  then  the  call 
became  clamorous  and  imperative.  This  was 
what  Gabriel  had  been  waiting  for.  With  a  pom- 
pous stride  he  mounted  the  rostrum.  The  medal, 
dangling  at  the  end  of  his  watch-chain,  caught 
midway  a  straggling  ray  of  light  and  threw  a 
golden  gleam  far  out  into  the  impromptu  audi- 
ence ;  in  his  eyes  there  lurked  a  greenish  gleam. 

"Ladies  and  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "I  thank  you 
for  your  kindness,  but  I  cannot    make    you    a 


20  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

speech.  I  shall,  however,  take  the  liberty  of  in- 
troducing to  you  that  peerless,  silver-tongued 
orator  of  the  Pee  Dee,  Mr.  Jerome  Watkins." 

It  was  a  cruel,  heartless  thrust — one  worthy  of 
Gabriel  Allen — meriting  only  the  rebuke  of  si- 
lence which  it  received.  Col.  Watkins,  who  was 
standing  nearby,  bit  fiercely  at  his  short,  gray 
moustache,  and,  involuntarily,  his  hand  fell  to 
his  hip,  as  it  had  done  in  the  palmy,  chivalric 
days  of  the  old  regime;  but,  with  an  effort,  he 
controlled  himself.  Maxine  MacDonald's  eyes 
flashed,  her  face  went  crimson,  and  she  used  her 
fan  vigorously  for  a  moment.  Jerome,  upon 
whom  all  eyes  were  now  centered,  swallowed 
hard ;  his  thin  face  waxed  white  as  death.  Then 
his  dark  eyes  glowed ;  his  strong  mouth  hardened 
like  granite;  and,  with  resolution  written  in  every 
stride,  he  mounted  the  platform  amid  thunder- 
ous applause. 

In  a  quavering,  hesitating  voice  he  thanked 
Gabriel  Allen  for  the  honor  of  the  introduction 
and  the  audience  for  the  evidences  of  pleasure  at 
his  appearance.  Then,  as  he  continued,  his  voice 
become  clear  and  strong,  silvery  and  full  of  pas- 
sion, till  the  audience  swayed  to  and  fro  beneath 
its  hypnotic  power  like  reeds  before  the  cross-cur- 
rents of  a  summer  gale.  Gabriel  Allen  shrank 
into  the  remotest  corner  of  the  crowd;  Maxine 
MacDonald's  face  shone  with  unconscious  joy. 
The  youthful  speaker,  to  the  infinite  surprise  of 
all,  strongly  summed  up  the  advantages  of  the 
New  South,  but  declared  that  the  new  was  the 
outgrowth  and  transformation  of  the  old;  that 
all  the  better  elements  of  the  old  had  been  care- 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  21 

fully  conserved  in  the  nezv,  becoming  its  very 
salt  of  savour;  that  the  blood  of  the  fathers  in 
the  veins  of  the  sons  was  the  elixir  of  Hfe  to  the 
New  South.  Once  he  hesitated,  as  if  about  to 
cease,  but  the  crowd  shouted,  "Go  on !  go  on  1" 

When  he  finally  stopped,  he  was  not  suffered 
to  descend  to  the  ground,  but  was  borne  off  on 
the  shoulders  of  enthusiastic  admirers. 

His  triumph  was  complete.  Gabriel  Allen  had 
been  beaten  at  his  own  game. 

Later,  when  Maxine  came  to  offer  her  con- 
gratulations, Jerome  found  courage  to  ask  her  to 
go  rowing  with  him,  and  she  broke  an  all-day 
engagement  with  Gabriel  to  accept  the  invitation. 
As  the  boat  drifted  idly  here  and  there  among 
the  clustering  pond-lilies,  Jerome  confided  to  her 
his  cherished  dreams.  But  when  he  came  to  the 
Debate  his  voice  sank.  That  was  the  precipice — 
the  pit — into  which  his  recent  triumph  had 
scarcely  thrown  more  than  a  ray  of  light. 

"Don't  despair,"  she  said.  **You  have  great 
talent;  you  will  succeed  if " 

"If  you  will  love  me.  Miss  Maxine!"  he  broke 
in  with  a  sudden  influx  of  courage.  A  light  of 
tenderness  glowed  in  his  dark  eyes  like  silvery 
moonbeams  in  murky  waters. 

"Why,  what  do  you  mean?"  she  asked.  "You 
are  so  sudden — so  startling."  Her  fair  cheeks 
colored  crimson  as  clustering  cherries. 

"I  mean  what  I  say,  Maxine,"  he  breathed 
softly.  "I  love  you — I  love  you — the  moment  I 
laid  eyes  on  you  Commencement  day  I  loved  you. 
You  helped  me  to  fail  then,  now  help  me  to  suc- 
ceed.    Will    you — can    you — return    my    love?" 


22  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

The  question  quivered  with  a  flood  of  passion. 
He  bent  over  as  if  to  receive  her  answer  in  his 
arms,  but  something  in  her  face  checked  him. 

"One  oi  your  talent  should  have  a  college  edu- 
cation," she  said,  with  a  pathetic  little  effort  to 
change  the  subject,  "you  shouldn't " 

"Must  one  go  to  college  to  learn  to  love,  Max- 
ine?"  he  broke  in  hoarsely.  The  boat  was  drift- 
ing now ;  in  a  moment  it  entered  a  little  eddy  and 
whirled  slowly  toward  the  shore.  "Won't  you 
love  me,  Maxine  ?"  he  pleaded. 

"Why,  I — I  never  thought  of — of  you  asking 
me  that,"  she  faltered.  "We  have  known  each 
other  such  a  short  while;  and  Marjorie  loves — " 

"Well,  what  difference  does  that  make?"  he  in- 
terrupted. "I  have  known  Marjorie  for  years, 
and  yet  I  do  not  love  her."  There  was  native 
honesty  rather  than  unfeeling  cruelty  in  his  low 
tones.    "I  loved  you  at  first  sight." 

"But  you  said  that  a  collegiate  education  was 
your  great  aim  and  ambition.  Education  is  the 
Girdle  of  the  Great;  you  must  have  it.  Too  many 
in  our  Southland  esteem  it  but  a  fool's  bauble. 
Even  if  I  loved  you  I  could  not  mar  your  splendid 
future." 

Jerome  felt  the  fountain  of  hope  wither  within 
his  heart. 

"Then  you  cast  me  off?"  he  said  bitterly,  with 
a  dead  white  despair  in  his  face— for  all  time. 

"No,  till  educationally  you  are  my  superior." 

"Then  I  shall  be,"  he  said  with  a  steel-strong 
look  about  the  mouth,  "if  I  must  walk  through 
thorns   and   fire." 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  23 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  BLOW   IN  THE  DARK. 

On  landing,  they  found  the  picnic  party,  includ- 
ing Gabriel  Allen,  gone.  Jerome  did  not  regret 
their  departure.  But  Maxine  twisted  her  red 
lips  into  a  rueful,  though  not  unbecoming,  pout 
when  she  noted  the  absence  of  her  erstwhile  es- 
cort. In  fact,  one  would  have  supposed  from 
her  displeased  demeanor  that  the  grievance  was 
wholly  on  her  side.  This,  however,  has  always 
been,  and  doubtless  always  will  be,  a  distinctively 
feminine  prerogative. 

"Now  what  shall  I  do?"  she  exclaimed  petu- 
lantly. "  'Tis  full  three  miles  to  Rocky  Heights 
and  I'm  but  an  indifferent  walker !"  She  gave 
vent  to  her  perplexity  by  softly  tapping  the  toe 
of  a  dainty  slipper  with  the  tip  of  her  parasol — a 
mild  way  of  expressing  a  woman's  woe. 

"Why,  we'll  ride  back  in  the  good  old  colonial 
style,"  comforted  Jerome,  turning  to  a  sleek  sor- 
rel horse,  which  happily  was  still  tethered  where 
he  had  left  him  in  the  morning.  "The  old  ways 
are  the  best  ways,  after  all." 

He  untied  the  horse  and  began  to  unbuckle  the 
saddlegirth  preparatory  to  arranging  the  blanket 
behind  the  saddle. 

"Ah,  I  thought  you  were  a  disciple  of  the  New 


24  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

South,"  she  observed  archly,  measuring  in  the 
swift  glance  the  possibility  of  maintaining  a  safe 
seat  on  the  improvised  palfrey. 

"And  so  I  am,"  he  replied,  as  he  tested  the 
strength  of  the  saddlegirth,  politically.  "In  sen- 
timent, I  am  with  the  Old  South.  I  believe  in  its 
soul  of  honor — its  sense  of  chivalry." 

A  light  of  admiration  which  she  was  un- 
able to  restrain  suddenly  leaped  to  the  girl's 
eyes.  Where  had  this  unlettered  youth  im- 
bibed such  knowledge?  Had  not  the  foun- 
tains of  Southern  chivalry  long  since  withered 
and  ceased  to  send  forth  their  sparkling 
flow?  She  caught  a  swift  vision  of  another  foun- 
tain, whose  frantic  fury  gushed  out  a  glittering 
yellow  flow  of  molten  gold.  Young  as  she  was, 
she  had  been  taught  that  the  possession  of  wealth 
was  knowledge;  but  somehow,  despite  all  of  her 
preceptors,  and  the  pressure  of  environment,  she 
had  reversed  that  theory.  A  generation  back  in 
her  family  there  had  been  a  learned  man — an 
ever-thirsting  student — and  the  money-getters 
who  had  followed  him  had  been  unable  to  blot  out 
that  "bar  sinister"  from  the  blood.  At  the  age  of 
eighteen  Maxine  MacDonald  was  almost  a 
scholar ;  that  is  to  say,  she  was  conversant  with 
scholarly  productions. 

After  diligent  search  for  one  in  whom  the  best 
ideals  of  the  Old  South  lived  with  the  best  and 
the  brightest  of  the  New — for  one,  indeed,  whom 
she  purposed  and  hoped  to  find  in  the  feminine — 
she  had  found  her  affinity  in  a  country  youth. 
A  flood-tide  of  fancy  submerged  her  heart  for  a 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  ^5 

moment.  And  she  gazed  at  Jerome  with  a  sort 
of  dream- Uke  radiance  in  her  face. 

Jerome,  had  he  been  conversant  with  the  more 
recent  novels,  might  have  seen  in  this  the  "psy- 
chological moment."  But,  as  he  was  not,  he  in- 
terpreted her  silence  and  facial  expression  to 
mean  simply  fear  and  hesitancy  about  accepting 
the  improvised  seat  behmd  his  saddle.  "If  you'll 
just  mount  that  big  rock  yonder,  Miss  Maxine," 
he  said,  pointing  to  a  boulder  a  few  yards  dis- 
tant, "you'll  have  no  trouble  about  taking  your 
seat.  And  I  promise,  on  my  honor,  to  help  you 
keep  it  till  you  get  to  Rocky  Heights." 

With  a  nervous  little  laugh  she  did  as  she  was 
bidden.  A  moment  later  she  was  safely  mounted 
on  the  make-shift  side-saddle.  And  as,  perforce, 
it  became  necessary  for  her  to  place  her  soft  arms 
around  his  waist,  Jerome  speedily  forgot  all 
other  girdles  of  the  great.  "This  is  the  way  our 
forebears  took  their  weddin'  tours,"  he  said  mis- 
chievously, as  he  turned  the  horse's  head  toward 
Rocky  Heights.  He  glanced  over  his  shoulder 
and  saw  that  his  words  had  sent  a  wave  of  deep 
carmine  to  her  cheeks. 

"Please  God  that  this  one  of  their  descendants 
may  not  be  required  to  do  so,"  she  retorted.  "I 
prefer  a  top-buggy." 

Jerome  winced,  and  ventured  no  more  inno- 
cent remarks  on  that  score. 

Slowly,  partly  because  it  was  necessary,  and 

partly  because  he  so  willed  it,  they  rode  toward 

/  Rocky  Heights,  Dr.  Allen's  princely  estate.    The 

sweet  calm  of  eventide  lay  amber  hued  on  wood 

and  lane  and  emerald  field,  save  for  the  liquid 


^6  The  Girdle  of  the  GREAf 

vespers  of  mocking-birds,  or  the  silvery  tinkling 
of  sheep  bells,  or  the  plaintive  call  of  quails  deep 
in  the  tangled  coverts. 

"I  believe  I  will  walk  the  rest  of  the  way," 
said  Maxine  suddenly,  as  they  were  nearing  a 
rough  stretch  of  road.  "I  am  devoted  to  walk- 
ing, when  the  distance  is  not  too  great,"  she 
added  quickly. 

"It  is  more  than  a  mile,  and  the  road  is  al- 
most impassable  for  foot-travellers.  I  could  not 
think  of  letting  you  do  so,"  Jerome  replied  with 
determination. 

"Letting  me  do  so?"  she  echoed.  "Why,  you 
talk  as  if  you  were  a  king,  and  I  captive  being 
borne  off  to  some  gray  and  gruesome  castle.  I 
shall  walk,  sir,  if  I  will."  There  was,  however, 
a  note  of  satisfaction  in  the  retort  which  was  not 
wasted  on  Jerome's  ears.  He  was  not  slow  to 
read  its  meaning.  She  was  not  displeased  to  find 
him  the  possessor  of  a  strong  will. 

"You  must  stay  where  you  are,"  he  said  gently, 
but  with  an  undercurrent  of  resolution,  "for  your 
omm  sake." 

"Oh,  yes,  I'm  pre-eminently  selfish,"  she  re- 
plied with  a  trace  of  merriment  in  her  tone. 
"Therefore  I  can  consistently  obey." 

I^c  ^  ^  ^  ^  ^  ^ 

All  too  soon  for  Jerome  the  delightful,  old- 
fashioned  ride  was  at  an  end.  As  he  drew  rein 
before  the  mansion  at  Rocky  Heights,  he  caught 
a  sudden  glimpse  of  Gabriel  scowling  in  the 
doorway.  "Looks  like  I'll  have  a  duel  on  my 
hands,"  Jerome  observed  playfully. 


The  Girdle  of  the  GREAf  27 

"The  Old  South  again,"  she  mocked,  a  mis- 
chievous Hght  in  her  blue  eyes. 

"Yes,  an  old  sword  for  an  old  story,"  he 
flashed  back.  "Miss  Maxine,"  he  continued, 
when  he  had  assisted  her  to  dismount,  "will  you 
go  driving  with  me  to-morrow  afternoon?"  His 
voice  shook  now,  despite  a  desperate  effort  to  ap- 
pear composed.  He  knew  that  she  would  depart 
the  day  after  for  her  far  southern  home,  and 
that  this  would  be  his  last  opportunity.  He 
awaited  her  answer  with  breathless  eagerness,  his 
heart  throbbing  tumultuously.  She  hesitated  a 
moment,  in  which  she  seemed  to  toy  with  her 
decision  as  if  it  were  a  dainty  kerchief,  then  look- 
ing him  squarely  in  the  eyes,  flung  forth  a  strong 
and  decisive  "No."  Before  he  could  recover 
from  his  surprise,  she  had  turned,  entered  the 
gate  and  fled  like  a  white  mist  up  the  narrow  box- 
wood avenue. 

Marjorie,  Gabriel's  sister,  stood  on  the  veran- 
da. "Oh  Max,"  she  exclaimed,  "you're  just  in 
time  to  stop  a  searching-party.  'Pon  my  word 
we  thought  you'd  run  off  with — with  Jerome." 

Maxine  detected  beneath  the  banter  a  pathetic 
little  plea.  "Why,  no,  Marjy,"  she  said  with 
mischievous  intonation ;  "he  ran  off  with  me — or 
rather  I  should  say,  rowed  off,  since  we  went  in 
a  boat.    What  became  of  you?    I  never — " 

"Oh,  Gabriel  made  me  come  home  with  him — 
said  that  you  had  deserted  him — that  the  Wilber 
boys  down  the  way  would  laugh  if  he  drove  by 
with  no  one — I  begged  him  to  wait,  but  he 
wouldn't — he's  always  been  spoiled,  you  know — " 

"Miss  Maxine,  you've  left  your  parasol,"  came 


28  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

a  desperate  voice  from  the  vicinity  of  the  gate. 

"Oh,  yes.  Just  leave  it  at  the  gate,  won't  you, 
please?"  she  called  back  sweetly. 

Then  Jerome,  having  snatched  at  his  last  straw, 
mounted  his  horse  and  rode  on  his  wav  to  River- 
wood.  Nevertheless,  his  heart  palpitated  with 
the  stirring  incidents  of  the  day.  A  bright  star 
seemed  suddenly  to  have  burned  througn  his 
black  horoscope.  Not  even  Maxine's  refusal  to 
grant  his  last  request  could  dim  the  golden 
gleams  of  hope. 

Slowly,  with  the  fancied  impress  of  her  soft, 
shapely  arms  still  about  him,  he  rode.  His  bridle- 
rein  lay  slackened — almost  drooping  on  the 
horse's  neck.  He  revelled  in  the  thought  that  he 
would  be  like  the  strong,  sturdy  oak  to  the  cling- 
ing ivy  of  Alaxine's  love.  That  she  had  given 
him  even  faint  encouragement,  was  a  vital  tonic 
to  his  soul.  Like  the  widow's  measure  of  meal, 
that  measure,  however  infinitesimal,  would  pos- 
sess the  power  to  prolong  itself.  But  the  girl's 
words — and  he  was  forced  to  admit — high-flown 
ways,  had  suggested  a  fact  which  seemed  gro- 
tesquely out  of  harmony  with  the  former  fitness  of 
things;  that  he,  a  gentleman's  son  and  the  son  of 
an  aristocrat,  should  be  forced  to  admit  that  good 
breeding  alone  was  not  sufficient  qualification  to 
the  woman  whom  he  sought  in  marriage.  Noth- 
ing more  surely  marked  the  passing  of  an  old 
regime.  And  vet  he  did  not  understand  the  mo- 
tive-spring  of  that  passing.  What  new  forces 
were  at  work  in  the  South?  What  reconstruc- 
tion was  to  crown  Reconstruction?  Whence  had 
this  mere  girl,  who,  on  occasion,  could  be  as 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  29 

frivolous  as  April  sky,  received  such  startling 
tlieories?  These  questions  arose  in  Jerome's 
mind,  but  they  remained  unanswered. 

As  to  the  matter  of  her  refusal  to  accept  his 
invitation  to  go  driving,  he  saw  in  that  only  a 
woman's  freak  of  fancy.  In  his  opinion  it  had 
no  bearing  on  the  case,  one  way  or  the  other. 
The  fact  that  she  had  spent  the  major  part  of 
the  day  in  his  company  was  far  more  auspicious 
than  her  refusal  to  spend  a  few  hours  could  be 
direful. 

Once  or  twice,  as  Jerome  glanced  ahead,  he 
fancied  that  he  descried  the  dark  outline  of  a 
figure  moving  stealthily  in  the  shadow  of  the 
trees  which  flanked  the  roadway.  He  finally  dis- 
missed the  idea,  however,  as  an  illusion,  or  a  trick 
of  the  moon,  just  rising  like  a  brimming  bowl  of 
quicksilver  above  the  silent  tree-tops. 

Suddenly,  as  he  was  entering  the  most  perilous 
part  of  the  steep  slope,  which  dipped  down  to  the 
river,  a  dark  figure  crouching  toad-like  by  the 
roadway,  sprang  up  and  struck  the  horse  a  sting- 
ing blow  across  the  haunches.  It  was  done  so 
silently  and  speedily,  that  Jerome,  instinctively 
clutching  the  rein  more  firmly,  caught  only  a 
hurried,  indistinct  glimpse  of  his  assailant.  The 
next  instant  the  frightened  horse  was  rushing 
madly  down  the  slope.  Jerome  had  unfortunately 
trained  him  to  increase  his  speed  at  an  unusual 
tightening  of  the  rein ;  so  all  hope  of  checking 
him  in  that  way  was  rendered  useless.  Instead, 
Jerome  grasped  the  pommel  of  the  saddle,  and, 
clinging  desperately,  shouted,  "Whoa!  whoa! 
who^!"  but  the  terrified  animal,  borne  on  by 


30  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

mighty  momentum,  could  not  have  stopped,  even 
if  he  had  had  the  disposition  to  do  so. 

Down,  down,  a  swiftly  moving  silhouette  be- 
neath the  fantastic  glow  of  the  moonlight,  shot 
horse  and  rider, — slipping,  sliding,  flashing  lurid 
sparks  of  fire.  In  that  fearful  plunge  there  was 
something  ghastly,  ghostly,  intensely  terrible.  It 
was  like  the  phantom  ride  of  "Tarn  o'  Shanter," 
or  the  stampede  of  wild  horses,  or  the  crashing  of 
boulders  riven  by  thunder-bolts. 

Near  the  ferry  the  road  turned  sharply  around 
an  unused  stretch  of  trail,  at  whose  base  a 
mighty  mass  of  mingled  rock  and  earth  had 
crumbled  off  into  the  river.  Would  the  horse 
make  that  new  turn,  or  would  he,  thundering 
over  the  old  trail,  leap  the  precipice  and  plunge 
to  awful  death  on  the  jagged  rocks  below?  Fear 
of  the  latter  sent  a  shiver  of  horror  to  Jerome's 
soul.  He  was  no  coward.  But  he  could  not  en- 
dure the  thought  of  a  death  like  that.  Nearer, 
nearer  to  the  dangerous  curve  they  rushed, 
Jerome's  face  white,  drawn,  tense  with  infinite 
eagerness.  Could  he  possibly  swerve  the  mad 
horse  to  the  left?  Under  the  impulse  of  the 
thought,  he  clutched  at  the  rein,  but  it  eluded 
him  and  went  over  the  horse's  head.  They  were 
in  the  mouth  of  the  curve  now.  With  a  last, 
frantic  effort,  Jerome  shouted  and  leaned  as  far 
as  possible  to  the  left.  Even  in  the  act,  he  saw 
how  hopeless  it  was.  Unable  at  such  great  speed 
to  make  the  turn,  the  horse  was  rushing  down  the 
old  road.  The  dull,  leaden  boom  of  the  river 
sounded  in  the  rider's  ears.  A  white,  frothii^g 
patch  flashed  up  to  greet  his  burning  gaze.     He 


'They  were  in  the  moutli  of  the  curve  now." 


Facing:  /^agv  30 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  31 

could  almost  hear  the  laughter  of  demons  in  the 
swirl  of  the  wild  waters.  A  few  yards — he 
shrank  from  the  possibility. 

Once  more  a  desperate  thought  flashed  over 
him.  He  swiftly  sought  to  kick  clear  of  the  stir- 
rups and  slide  from  the  horse.  That  effort,  too, 
proved  fruitless.  For  some  reason  his  right  foot 
became  entangled.  Determined  to  succeed  at  any 
hazard,  he  ran  his  hand  deep  down  in  his  pocket, 
withdrew  his  knife,  opened  it  with  his  teeth  and 
with  a  frantic  stroke  slashed  the  saddle-girth.  A 
moment  it  held  by  a  strand ;  then  snapped,  and 
Jerome  lost  consciousness  in  a  sickening,  star- 
shot  whirl. 


32  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 


CHAPTER  VI. 

\  AN  URGENT  CALL. 

Late  in  the  night  there  came  a  hurried,  in- 
sistent rapping  at  Doctor  Allen's  front  door.  In 
response  to  it,  the  Doctor  himself,  a  squat,  side- 
whiskered  individual,  whose  rotund,  florid  face 
plainly  bespoke  the  Epicurean,  appeared.  "What 
is  it?"  he  demanded  briskly.  "Ah,  it's  Jeffries, 
isn't  it?"  he  added,  as  a  bar  of  light  from  the 
lantern  played  over  the  visitor's  bronzed,  bearded 
face. 

"That  same,  Doc,"  gasped  the  man,  breathless 
from  the  excitement  and  the  hurried  climb  up 
the  slope,  "I've  jest — found  Romey  Watkins — 
on  the  old  road — lyin'  dead-like — under  his  sad- 
dle— with  boss  gone — dunno  but  the  boy's  done 
fer — come  quick.  Doc." 

"How'd  it  happen?"  queried  the  Doctor,  un- 
easily, studying  the  other's  face. 

"Dunno — reckin'  hit  wuz  er — runaway — good- 
bye, I  must  go  tell  the  ole  man."  Jeffries  sud- 
denly turned  and  bounded  down  the  steps.     A 

few  moments  later  the  Doctor  followed  him. 
*  *  *  *  *  *  * 

Several  in  the  house  had  overheard  this  con- 
versation. Gabriel,  whose  room  was  no  great 
distance  away,  had  prept  to  his  door  and  listene4 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  33 

with  rapt  attention,  a  cold  glitter  in  his  eyes,  his 
ruddy  face  betraying  only  too  plainly  the  nature 
of  his  thoughts.  When  satisfied  that  his  father 
had  gone  he  stole  silently  from  the  house,  and, 
approaching  a  nearby  cabin,  called  softly,  "Tim, 
Tim." 

A  black  head  was  soon  thrust  out  the  narrow 
window.  "Who  dat?"  asked  the  owner  sus- 
piciously. "Is  dat  you,  Mister  Gabriel  ?"  he  added 
more  complacently,  sleepily  rubbing  his  eyes. 

"Yes,"  answered  Gabriel,  approaching  the 
window,  "You've  done  your  work  well,  Tim. 
But  if  you  ever  breathe  to  a  living  soul  that  1 
hired  you  to  do  it," — he  suddenly  reached  up  and 
clutched  the  negro's  collar — "I'll  kill  you,  so  help 
me  God!" 

"Dat  I  woan',  dat  I  woan',  Mister  Gabriel,"  fal- 
tered the  negro,  his  eyes  big  and  bright  with 
terror;  "no,  no  fer  all  de  goF  in  Norf  C'aliny." 

"See  to  it  that  you  don't,  then,  or  you  will  be 
sorry  for  it,"  muttered  Gabriel,  relaxing  his  grip. 
"But  hold,"  he  continued  with  a  tightening  of 
his  iron  grasp,  "did  Jerome — did  the  devil — 
recognize  you?" 

"No,  sah,  I  kep'  de  mask  ober  ma  face." 

"Very  good,"  chuckled  Gabriel  as  he  released 
the  negro  ;  "I  can  easily  prove  an  alibi.  But,  mind 
you,  you're  to  keep  mum  as  marble.  Your 
mammy  was  in  the  kitchen  and  didn't  miss  you. 
I — only  / — knew  where  you  were."  He  gave  a 
great  sigh  of  relief,  turned  sharply  on  his  heel; 
and,  as  the  guilty  so  often  do,  sought  the  scene 
of  the  runaway  and  the  presence  of  the  victim. 
Jiere  he  could  linger  in  the  shadow  and  watch 


34  The  Girdle  of  the  Great  \ 

the  dark  deed  bear  its  blanched  fruit,  gloating 
under  the  guise  of  sympathy. 

Meantime  Maxine,  who  had  retired  early 
against  an  early  rising  in  the  morning  when  she 
had  decided  to  take  her  departure,  was  pacing 
the  floor  in  an  agony  of  suspense  and  fear.  Be- 
ing restless  and  unable  to  sleep  like  her  com- 
panion, Marjorie,  she,  too,  had  overheard  the 
ferryman's  fateful  words.  They  had  sent  a  swift 
surge  of  remorse  and  sorrow  to  her  heart.  She 
bitterly  reproached  herself  for  having  refused 
Jerome's  request  to  go  driving  with  him.  She 
had  done  it  merely  to  test  him.  The  possibility 
that  the  man  who  gave  such  brilliant  promise  was 
dead,  dying,  or  hopelessly  maimed,  overmastered 
and  unnerved  her.  Somehow  an  invisible  bond 
linked  their  future.  She  felt  in  a  measure  re- 
sponsible for  the  success  or  failure  of  his  career. 

Tears  suddenly  gushed  to  her  eyes  like  glisten- 
ing jets  from  a  full  fountain.  "Oh  God,"  she 
moaned,  "spare  him,  spare  him." 

"Why,  what  in  the  name  of  all  the  saints  is  the 
matter.  Max  ?"  cried  Marjorie,  raising  up  in  bed. 
"Have  you  had  a  nightmare  ?" 

"Yes — a  nightmare — a  terrible  nightmare," 
Maxine  faltered,  as  with  heaving  bosom  and 
throbbing  temples,  she  crept  softly  back  to  bed. 
Marjone  was  soon  asleep  again;  but  there  v/as 
no  rest  for  Maxine.  Through  the  long  hours  she 
lay  wide-eyed  and  trembling,  her  heart  gripped 
by  giant  fears.  Over  and  over  again  she  fancied 
she  could  see  the  tragedy;  and  always  the  face 
of  Gabriel  Allen  peered  out  of  the  background  as 
the  face  of  one  welded  to  evil  deeds. 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  35 

In  the  rose-red  of  the  dawn,  when  a  wreathing 
wraith-Hke  mist  wound  over  the  river-valley, 
Maxine  crept  unobserved  from  the  sleeping 
house.  At  the  gate  she  paused  a  moment. 
Should  she  go  on?  She  hung  her  head  and  hesi- 
tated, absorbed  in  thought.  Had  she  not  for  this 
purpose  withheld  her  speech  when  the  natural 
impulse  was  to  cry  out  the  sad  intelligence  to 
Alarjorie?  Yes,  for  this — that  she  might  steal 
away  to  him  in  the  early  morning  and  gaze  upon 
his  poor  marred  face — she  had  kept  silent.  And 
for  this  she  would  go.  She  resolutely  flung  open 
the  gate  and  hurriedly  descended  the  hill  to  the 
ferryman's  cottage. 

It  was  a  white- faced  fluttering  little  creature, 
vacillating  between  hope  and  fear,  that  greeted 
the  tall,  grizzled  ferryman  when  he  opened  the 
cottage  door.  "Mornin',  Miss,  mornin',''  he 
cried  cordially,  swinging  wide  the  door,  "come  in 
— the  house  is  all  tore  up,  but — " 

"How  is  Jero — Mr.  Watkins?"  she  broke  in, 
with  a  shuddering  gasp.  Her  heart  thundered 
like  a  trip-hammer  in  her  ears.  Dull  gleams  of 
uncertainty  darted  beneath  the  deep  blue  of  her 
eyes.  She  unconsciously  clutched  at  his  sleeve, 
as  if  she  would  compel  his  answer  to  be  favora- 
ble. 

"In  er  mouty  bad  way.  Miss."  he  answered 
with  evident  sorrow. 

"They  took  him  home  'bout  three  o'clock.  He 
was  still  unconscious.  My!  you  orter  seed  the 
ole  man's  face.     He — " 

"Is    Mr.    Jerome   fatally  injured?"  she  inter- 


36  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

rupted  hoarsely,  unable  longer  to  stand  the  strain 
of  suspense. 

"Wal,  he  wuz  mouty  much  bruised  an'  bloodied 
up.  The  Doc.  couldn't  egzackly  tell  erbout  in- 
tarnal  injoories.  I  sed  the  boy  wuz  unconscious, 
but  he  kept  on  callin'  Max — ]\Iax  somethin',  I 
dunno  what — what's  the  matter,  Miss,  you  look 
sick?"  he  cried  suddenly,  catching  at  the  girl's 
arm  as  she  swayed  slightly  to  one  side. 

"I'm  all  right  now — can  you  ferry  me  across 
the  river — I  wish  to  go  at  once,"  she  gasped,  her 
face  white  to  the  lips,  but  her  eyes  shining  with 
unbending  purpose. 

"Yes,  when  you've  rested  up  er  spell — an' 
drinked  er  leetle  brandy.  I  keeps  hit  fer  snake- 
bites," he  added,  as  he  led  the  way  to  one  of  the 
front  rooms.  "Fl  be  back  in  er  minit,"  he  said, 
indicating  a  chair. 

Maxine  was  scarcely  seated  before  he  had  re- 
appeared with  a  brimming  glass  of  brandy. 
"Drink  some  er  this,"  he  urged,  with  rough  ten- 
derness. 

Maxine  silently  obeyed,  and  soon  felt  the  warm 
blood  surging  back  to  her  heart 

After  a  few  moments  she  announced  her  readi- 
ness to  cross  the  river  in  such  earnest  tones  that 
the  ferryman  acquiesced. 

"Be  you  er  frien'  er  the  Watkinses,  Miss?"  he 
queried  when  thev  had  entered  the  flat  and  were 
pushing  off. 

"Yes — of  Mr.  Jerome  Watkins." 

"Wal,  you're  my  frien'  then,"  exclaimed  the 
ferryman  with  a  burst  of  enthusiasm.  "Evybody 
what's  er  frien'  ter  Romey  Watkins  is  er  frien' 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  3^ 

ter  me.  I  caint  somehow  never  fergit  him  fer 
pulHn'  that  Bruce  er  mine  otit'n  this  river  at  the 
resk  er  his  own  Hfe.  Jot>  Jeffries  aint  one  ter 
fergit  sich  things.  Poor  Romey — I  hope  an' 
pray  he  won't  make  er  die  uv  it." 

Though  Maxine's  face  fully  approved  his 
crude,  heart-felt  expression,  she  made  no  reply. 
And  the  ferryman  lapsed  into  silence,  giving  his 
attention  wholly  to  the  management  of  the  ilat. 

"What's  your  name,  Miss — ef  you'll  excuse  an' 
ole  man  fer  axin?"  he  queried  when  she  had 
stepped  ashore. 

"Maxine  MacDonald." 

"What!  the  one  he  wuz  callin'  fer?  No,  I 
won't  take  no  pay,"  he  insisted  as  she  removed  a 
coin  from  her  purse,  "when  you're  on  your  way 
ter  see — " 

"But  you  must,"  she  urged,  "I  can't  let  you — " 

He  cut  short  all  remonstrance  by  swiftly  re- 
versing his  course.  "The  flat'U  be  ready  when- 
ever you  want  ter  cross,"  he  called  back. 

Then  she  gathered  her  skirts  and  bravely 
trudged  up  the  half-mile  slope  to  Riverwood. 

At  the  door  of  the  mansion  she  stood  finally, 
maidenly  modesty  and  a  soft,  strange  glow  in 
her  blue  eyes.  Uncertainly  master  of  all.  Would 
they  think  her  indelicate?  Pier  cheeks  flamed  at 
the  thought.  Would  he  think  her  overbold  ?  She 
shuddered;  alas,  he  might  never  think  again — ■ 
coherently.  She  raised  her  little  clenched  fist  to 
rap  on  the  door.  A  sudden  longing  to  flee  seized 
her.  She  half-turned.  A  footstep — a  slow,  lag- 
ging footstep— arrested  her  attention.  She 
wheeled  about  to  face  an  old  negro  who  was  com- 


38  The  Cirdle  of  the  GREAf 

ing  up  the  walk.  Dejection  was  discernible  in 
the  stoop  of  his  powerful  shoulders.  Something 
more  burdensome  than  the  incubus  of  years  was 
weighing  him  down. 

"Mornin',  Missy,"  he  said,  doffing  his  cap 
quickly,  "how's  Marse  Romey  ?"  He  awaited  her 
answer,  cap  in  hand,  the  very  soul  of  respect  and 
courtesy. 

"That's  what  I've  come  to  find  out,  uncle,"  she 
replied  kindly.  She  turned  again  to  the  door, 
giving  it  a  sharp  rap. 

"Oh,  dat  aint  Missy  't  all,"  the  old  negro  ex- 
claimed as  he  drew  nearer.  "De  ole  nigger's  eye- 
sight am  sho'ly  gittin'  bad — sho'ly  gittin'  bad. 
Po'  HI'  Marse  Romey,"  he  ran  on  as  if  in  solilo- 
quy, "all  momucked  en  mud'ud  up  by  dat  deb- 
blish  boss.  De  bes'  chile  ebber  bawn  on  dis  rib- 
ber.  Dest  ez  sho'  fer  heaben  ez  de  purly  gates 
hangs  on  de  golden  hinges." 

"Is  he — ?"  But  Maxine  did  not  finish  the  sen- 
tence. The  door  opened  suddenly  and  she  was 
face  to  face  with  an  angelic-looking  little  woman 
whose  great  dark  eyes  were  strikingly  suggestive 
of  Jerome's.  The  dark  circles  beneath  them  be- 
spoke the  struggles  of  a  sleepless  night. 

"I  am  Miss  MacDonald,"  Maxine  faltered, 
striving  hard  to  restrain  the  question  throbbing 
in  her  heart  till  she  could  couch  it  in  composure. 

"And  I  am  Jerome's  mother,"  said  the  little 
woman,  warmly  grasping  the  girl's  extended 
hand. 

"Is   Mr.   Jerome   seriously — fatally   injured?" 

The  question  was  out.  And  a  mother's  ears 
could  no  more  be  deceived  by  the  forced  calm- 


The  Girdle  of  the  CREAf  39 

ness  with  which  it  had  been  uttered  than  her  eyes 
could  fail  to  read  in  the  younger  woman's  face 
the  tell-tale  tokens. 

"We  hope  not,"  she  replied  quickly.  "Dr.  Al- 
len"— she  hesitated  over  the  name — "says  it  wiu 
be  some  days  before  he  can  fully  determine  the 
extent  of  internal  injuries." 

Her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  her  voice  became 
choked. 

"Missy,  oh,  Missy,"  broke  in  the  old  negro, 
who  had  all  the  while  been  standing  impatiently 
at  the  foot  of  the  steps,  "how'se  Marse  Romey  dis 
mornin'?" 

He  shuffled  his  big  feet  from  side  to  side  in  a 
very  agony  of  uneasiness.  He  hung  on  her  words 
like  a  prisoner  at  the  bar. 

"Well,  his  mind's  clear.  Uncle  Sam,  but  we 
don't  know  the  extent  of  his  injuries.  He's 
badly  bruised  and  shaken  up." 

"Tank  Gord,  tank  Gord,  he's  still  in  de  Ian'  ov 
de  libin',"  he  ejaculated,  "an'  I'se  gwineter  'rassul 
wid  de  Lawd  ter  spare  dat  chile." 

"Jerome  has  asked  for  you — would  you  see 
him.  Miss  MacDonald?"  the  mother  queried  half- 
hesitatingly. 

"Yes,"  Maxine  replied  almost  before  she  had 
thought. 

The  mother  led  the  way  across  the  wide,  wains- 
cotted  hall,  softly  opened  the  door  and  conducted 
Maxine  into  a  large,  old-fashioned  room.  The 
girl's  gaze  instantly  travelled  to  a  distant  corner 
where  a  gray-haired  man  sat  beside  a  low  arm- 
chair, in  which,  with  an  attitude  of  utter  pain, 
half  reclined  a  blanketed,  bandaged  figure.    The 


4d  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

old  man  arose  quickly  and  came  forward,  all  the 
cordiality  and  courtesy  of  the  ancient  Southern 
gentleman  beaming  in  his  face. 

"Why,  isn't  this  Miss  IMacDonald  ?"  he  ex- 
claimed warmly,  extending  a  strong  brown  hand 
before  his  wife  could  introduce  them  (the  colonel 
hated  formality). 

"Yes,  sir,"  Maxine  gasped.  Though  trembling 
with  eagerness  to  see  the  figure  screened  by  the 
colonel's  tall  form,  she  was  completely  won  by 
the  warmth  and  heartiness  of  the  old  man's  man- 
ner. "I've  come  over  to  inquire  about — Mr. 
Jerome,"  she  added  in  a  lowered  tone,  her  face 
full  of  colour. 

"Ah,  it  is  kind — very  kind  and  thoughtful  of 
you,"  ejaculated  the  colonel,  stepping  aside. 
"There,"  he  continued,  turning  about  and  dramat- 
ically pointing  to  the  bandaged  figure,  "there" — 
his  gray  mustache  bristled  and  his  steel-blue  eyes 
shot  fire — "there  is  what  some  inhuman  wretch 
has  done  to  my  son  !" 

And  seeing  clearly  for  the  first  time,  Maxine 
beheld  above  the  white  bandage  a  pair  of  un- 
naturally bright  eyes.  Only  too  plainly  they  be- 
trayed the  consuming  eagerness  and  overmaster- 
ing impatience  which  throttled  his  heart  and 
twitched  his  sealed  lips. 

"You  must  excuse  me,"  said  the  colonel  with 
a  stately  bow  to  Maxine,  "I  have  an  engagement 
with  one  of  my  friends." 

A  moment  later  the  mother,  too,  found  an  ex- 
cuse for  leaving,  and  the  twain — she  who  had 
dared  so  much  and  he  who  had  snatched  his  life 
from  the  jaws  of  death — were  alone. 


V/i^.L 


Tliis  is  wliat  some  human  wretch  lias  done  to  my  son." 


Facina  pa^e  10 


1 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  41 

"Maxine,"  he  said  in  a  strained,  hoarse  whis- 
per, "Oh,  Maxine,  I  knew  you — would  come — if 
you  only  knew — "  he  pulled  the  bandage  still 
further  aside — "I  said — " 

"Hush,"  she  broke  in,  coming  to  his  side,  "you 
mustn't  talk.  You  mustn't  remove  the  band- 
age. 

"But,  Maxime — I  want  to  talk — to  you — I'm 
afraid — I'm  done  for." 

She  tenderly  placed  a  soft  white  hand  on  the 
arm  of  his  chair.  "You  mustn't  talk  like  that," 
she  said  bravely;  "it  gives  me  pain.  The  South 
needs  you;  the  world  waits  for  you;  and  I" — 
"Want  you  to  get  well,"  she  added,  striving  to 
conceal  by  looking  away  the  blush  which  mounted 
her  fair  face. 

"Four  years — four  years — that's  too  long  to 
wait — even  if — " 

She  silenced  him  with  a  wave  of  protest. 
"Listen,"  she  said;  "a  certain  court-beauty,  to 
test  an  admirer's  love,  once  threw  her  glove 
among  lions  and  bade  him  recover  it.  He  did  so 
at  the  peril  of  his  life,  and  rightly  threw  the 
glove  in  her  face.  To  test  your  love" — she  made 
a  tragic  little  gesture,  and  in  her  beautiful  eyes 
shone  the  light  of  the  Ancient  Scholar — "I  throw 
my  heart  among  the  Lions  of  Knowledge.  You 
will  thank  me  for  the  test.  Even  though  you 
should  throw  my  heart  back,  as  a  thing  apart 
from  your  life  and  unworthy,  it  will  have  brought 
you  none  the  less  the  Girdle  of  the  Great."  She 
paused,  leaning  over  him  so  near  that  her  fra- 
grant breath  fell  like  a  benediction  on  his  bruised 
brow. 


42  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

He  gazed  up  at  her,  a  great,  yearning  tender- 
ness in  his  dark  eyes.    "Oh,  Maxine,"  he  gasped. 

But  the  words  died  on  his  Ups.  The  door 
swung  suddenly  open  and  Dr.  Allen  stood  before 
them. 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  43 


CHAPTER  VII. 
some  surprises. 

Dr.  Allen  had  a  habit  of  entering  the  sick-room 
at  unexpected  hours,  excusing  the  liberty  on  the 
plea  that  he  wished  to  note  the  real  condition  of 
his  patients  before  they  could  disorder  their 
pulses.  Being  something  of  a  hypocrite  himself, 
he  invariably  looked  for  that  element  in  the  lives 
of  others.  The  only  redeeming  quality  about  the 
Doctor's  hypocrisy  (if  that  vice  can  be  said  to 
possess  mitigating  circumstances)  was  its  cheer- 
fulness. 

An  exclamation  of  surprise  rushed  to  his  lips 
when  he  saw  Maxine  standing  beside  Jerome. 
His  florid  face  assumed  the  hue  of  an  overripe 
peach,  but  he  almost  instantly  recovered  his  com- 
posure. "Why,  Miss  Maxine,"  he  laughed, 
"you've  turned  trained  nurse,"  and,  "by  the  by," 
he  ran  on,  feeling  Jerome's  pulse,  "you've  got  his 
heart  going  likety-clip  like  a  scared  rabbit." 

She  blushed,  murmured  something,  and  left 
the  room. 

The  doctor  proceeded  with  his  examination. 
"Doing  pretty  well,  boy,"  he  said,  adjusting  the 
bandages,  "but  you  inustn't  talk  much.  And  you 
must  be  careful  next  time  about  the  sort  of  horses 
you  ride." 


44  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

Jerome  essayed  to  reply.  The  doctor  silenced 
him  with  a  gesture.  "No,  no,  my  boy,  you  must 
keep  quiet — your  mind  isn't  exactly  clear — a 
slight  concussion — a  slight  clot  on  the  brain- 
but  you'll  be  all  o.  k.  in  a  few  days  if  your  heart 
don't  give  you  trouble."  With  that,  he  was  gone, 
leaving  Jerome  staring  at  the  wall  in  helpless 
misery. 

Beyond  a  few  pleasantries  the  doctor  said  lit- 
tle to  Maxine  as  they  drove  back  in  his  dog-cart 
to  Rocky  Heights — a  fact  for  which  she  was 
profoundly  grateful.  Though  conscious  of  no 
impropriety,  she  was  nevertheless  afflicted  with  a 
haunting  fear  lest  Jerome  should  think  her  want- 
ing in  modesty.  Yet,  she  argued  to  herself,  that 
in  his  present  state  of  mind — or,  rather,  to  be 
more  accurate,  of  heart — it  had  seemed  the  only 
course  to  pursue.  Then,  if  ever,  she  should 
strengthen  him.  Why  not?  He  was  to  be  her 
ideal  of  the  Nezu  South — her  soul's  companion. 

The  doctor,  too,  had  his  reflections  as  the  dog- 
cart bumped  down  the  steep  slope  to  the  ferry. 

In  early  manhood  he  had  indulged  dreams  of 
great  v/ealth.  Money  was  his  God,  and  he  had 
stooped  to  the  lowest  level  to  obtain  it.  Every 
energy  of  his  virile  nature  had  been  consequently 
subserved  to  that  end.  He  had  studied  the  wiles 
of  the  charlatan  and  the  ways  of  the  clown.  He 
possessed  the  faculty  of  making  his  patients  be- 
lieve they  were  well  when  they  were  sick,  and 
sick  when  they  were  well.  His  wealthy  patients 
had  every  disease  in  the  medical  records  (and 
many  which  were  not)  while  the  poor  were  al- 
ways afflicted  with  trifles. 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  45 

The  doctor  also  made  a  specialty  of  shaving 
notes  and  lending  money  on  ''gilt-edge  security." 
In  the  latter  way  he  had  gotten  the  estate  of 
Riverwood  in  his  octopus-like  clutches,  taking  a 
cruel  advantage  of  the  Colonel's  necessity.  The 
doctor's  immediate  reason  for  desiring  the  match 
between  Gabriel  and  Maxine  was  a  valuable  es- 
tate adjoining  Rocky  Heights.  While  this  estate 
was  at  present  in  litigation,  it  remained  in  the 
possession  of  Mr.  Hector  MacDonald,  the  presi- 
dent of  the  Ansonville  Bank.  Maxine  was  Mr. 
MacDonald's  natural  heir.  Before  the  suit  had 
begun  the  doctor  had  vainly  tried  to  purchase  this 
estate  for  a  secret  purpose :  he  had  learned  from 
a  prospector,  whom  he  had  attended  in  extremis, 
that  the  "Brandon  Place"  contained  valuable  de- 
posits of  gold-bearing  ore. 

The  incident  of  the-  morning  had  therefore 
grated  somewhat  harshly  on  his  gold  nerves. 

When  they  reached  the  ferry,  the  doctor  had 
apparently  regained  his  usual  cheerfulness.  He 
gave  a  merry,  winding  blast  with  the  signal- 
horn.  In  a  little  while  the  ferry-flat  put  out 
from  the  opposite  shore.  The  ferryman  was  not 
the  one  who  had  conveyed  Maxine  across  in  the 
morning.  He  was  a  tall,  sunburnt  youth  of  per- 
haps twenty.  His  face  bespoke  rural  simplicity 
and  rugged  honesty,  with  a  touch  of  native 
strength  in  the  lines  about  the  mouth  and  chin. 
He  saluted  his  passengers  with  an  awkward  bow 
as  he  drew  near  shore.  He  was  evidently  little 
used  to  the  society  of  women. 

"Good  morning,  Bruce,"  said  the  doctor,  driv- 
ing onto  the  flat.    "Fine  day." 


46  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

"Yes,  sir,"  responded  the  youth. 

"Any  news,"  continued  the  doctor,  warily. 

"Nuthin'  in  pertickler,  sir.  How's  Romey 
Watkins?" 

"Oh,  he's  doing  fairly  well." 

"Powerful  glad  ter  hear  it,"  said  the  youth. 
"It's  quare,  though,  how  thet  hoss  cum  ter  run 
erway  with  him.    Alust  er  bin  skeered  bad  by — " 

The  doctor  cut  him  short  by  asking  about  the 
autumn  horse-fair  to  be  held  at  Ansonville.  But 
J\Iaxine's  suspicions  were  aroused  and  she  sus- 
pected that  the  doctor  knew  more  than  he  cared 
to  admit. 

As  they  were  passing  the  spot  where  the  old 
road  turned  into  the  new,  Maxine  ventured  a 
question  about  the  runaway,  but  the  doctor 
adroitly  conveyed  the  conversation  into  another 
channel. 

When  they  arrived  at  Rocky  Heights,  Maxine 
was  instantly  borne  off  by  Marjorie  to  a  shel- 
tered part  of  the  veranda  and  assailed  with  a 
fusillade  of  questions.  "Did  he  say  anything 
about  me?"  she  queried,  after  asking  the  extent 
of  Jerome's  injury. 

"Well,  no,  I  believe  not,"  IMaxine  stammered. 

"Not  a  word?" 

"No." 

"Oh,  well,  I  think  I  can  understand  it  then, 
Max,"  Marjorie  said,  with  a  poor  little  attempt 
at  pleasantry.  "You  didn't  give  him  the  chance 
to  say  it." 

"Indeed  I  did— I—" 

The  conversation  was  ended  by  the  breakfast- 
bell. 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  47 

The  meal  passed  silently — almost  solemnly — 
save  for  an  occasional  witticism  by  the  doctor, 
who  feared  lest  his  guest  should  become  offended 
at  any  marked  discourtesy  on  his  part. 

Gabriel  was  too  chagrined  at  the  affair  of  the 
morning  to  offer  any  remarks  at  all.  His  face 
betrayed  only  too  plainly  the  gloomy  nature  of 
his  thoughts.  He  had  determined,  however,  to 
make  a  desperate  effort  to  regain  his  standing 
with  Maxine  as  he  drove  with  her  to  Ansonville. 
Accordingly,  he  hastened  the  preparations  for  de- 
parture. Unhappily  for  him,  he  could  not  hasten 
Maxine.  It  was  fully  nine  o'clock  when  they 
drove  through  the  big  gate.  The  train  left  An- 
sonville at  ten-fifteen.  Gabriel  would,  therefore, 
have  less  time  than  he  had  anticipated  to  present 
his  case.    He  resolved  to  make  the  most  of  it. 

When  they  were  well  out  of  sight  in  a  monot- 
onous stretch  of  pine  forest,  he  went  at  once  to 
the  heart  of  the  matter — or  the  matter  of  the 
heart. 

"Maxine,"  he  said,  tenderly,  dropping  the 
lines  over  his  knee,  "I  love  you.  Ever  since  I 
saw  you  that  first  morning  years  ago  at  Anson- 
ville, I  have  loved  you  passionately — with  every 
power  of  my  nature.  Say  that  it  is  returned,  and 
I  will  be  the  happiest  man  on  earth."  He  paused, 
gazed  at  her  half -helplessly,  yet  with  a  certain 
cruel  strength  in  the  set  of  his  strong  jaw. 
"Speak,  Maxine;  say  that  you  love  me,"  he  ran 
on,  piqued  at  the  silence  which  had  greeted  his 
passionate  outburst.  "Do  not  tell  me  that  my 
case  is  hopeless — " — his  voice  became  husky  and 
hard — "that  you  love  Jerome  Watkins." 


48  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

Maxine  started.  His  last  words  had  struck 
like  a  thunderbolt.  The  vision  of  a  runaway- 
horse  and  helpless  rider  surged  up  before  her. 
A  wave  of  protecting  tenderness  submerged  her 
heart. 

"Suppose  I  should  tell  you  that  I  loved  Jerome 
Watkins?"  she  said,  unwisely.  "Suppose  I 
should  tell  you  that  I  could  never  love  anyone 
else?     Suppose — " 

"I  would  kill  him!"  he  cried,  his  face  purple 
with  passion. 

Fear  gripped  her  heart.  "Well,  I  do  not  love 
him,"  she  gasped,  with  a  half-strangling  intake 
of  breath,  "but  I  do  admire  and  respect  him. 
He  would  not  strike  a  foe  in  the  dark." 

It  was  a  chance  shot,  but  it  had  struck  home. 
The  blood  fled  from  Gabriel's  face,  leaving  it 
white  to  the  lips.  His  cruel  jaw  sagged  like  that 
of  a  dog  caught  at  the  throat  of  a  struggling 
sheep. 

"What — what — an  oddity  you  are,"  he  said  at 
last.  He  jerked  up  the  lines,  gave  the  horse  a 
cruel  cut  and  the  buggy  bowled  along  the  level, 
yellow  road. 

Finally  recovering  his  composure,  he  said :  "In 
spite  of  what  you  say,  I  must  still  believe  you 
love  Jerome  Watkins.  Your  actions  prove  it 
(and  'actions  speak  louder  than  words'),  but  I 
want  you  to  know  before  you  choose  him  that  he 
is  entirely  in  my  power.  I  hold  a  mortgage  on 
the  estate  of  Riverwood.  This  mortgage  can  be 
foreclosed.  Colonel  Watkins  will  never  be  able 
to  raise  it.  Jerome  Watkins  is  no  more  than  the 
hireling  son  of  a  hireling." 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  49 

"He's  the  gentleman  son  of  a  gentleman," 
rushed  to  Maxine's  lips,  but  this  time  prudence 
prevailed,  and  the  retort  remained  unspoken. 

"I'll  tell  you,  Maxine,"  he  ran  on,  "I'll  soon  be 
the  richest  man  in  the  county  in  my  own  right. 
And  you  can't  afford  to  marry  a  poor  man. 
How's  that  old  saying  about  'When  Poverty 
comes  in  the  door,  Love  flies  out  the  window'?" 

"Please  don't  mention  that  subject  to  me 
again,"  she  said  coldly.  "I  assure  you  it  is  most 
unpleasant."  She  gazed  out  into  the  forest  as  if 
supremely  indifferent  to  his  presence. 

"I'll  not  mention  it  again,  but  you  shall  hear 
of  it  again,"  he  said  harshly,  giving  the  horse  an- 
other cruel  cut. 

They  fairly  dashed  over  a  comparatively  level 
two-mile  stretch,  finally  entering  the  ragged  out- 
skirts of  the  village. 

Suddenly  a  cloud  of  dust  was  seen  rolling  to- 
ward them.  Nearer  and  nearer  it  swept  along 
the  lane-like  road  till  the  outline  of  a  horse  and 
buggy  was  discernible  through  the  swirling  red 
mist.  Soon  the  driver  proved  to  be  Mr.  Hector 
MacDonald,  the  banker. 

"Lucky !"  he  cried,  checking  his  horse,  "twenty 
minutes  to  catch  the  train" — he  held  up  a  flutter- 
ing bit  of  yellow  paper — "and  this  says  come  at 
once." 

He  leaped  out,  helped  Maxine  to  a  seat  in  his 
buggy  and,  with  a  bow  to  Gabriel,  turned  the 
horse  and  dashed  back  toward  the  village. 

Maxine  opened  the  crumpled  telegram  which 
the  banker  had  thrust  in  her  hands.    It  read : 


» 


'50  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

"Mother  seriously  ill,  come  at  once, 

(Signed)     Ambrose  Payne/ 

Many  times  that  day  as  the  train  whirled 
South,  despite  her  uneasiness  about  her  mother, 
Maxine  recalled  Gabriel  Allen's  words — "I  shall 
not  speak  of  it  again,  but  you  shall  hear  of  it 
again." 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  51 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  KEEN  EDGE  OF  DISAPPOINTMENT. 

^  September  came.  Gabriel  Allen  had  gone  to 
Forest  College,  the  doctor  having  strongly  in- 
sisted that  he  use  the  scholarship  which  the  win- 
ning of  the  medal  had  placed  in  his  hands. 
Rodolph  Westcott,  Winston  Ingraham,  Joe  Mac- 
Cauley  and  other  neighborhood  boys  had  also 
left  for  various  institutions  of  learning.  Poor 
Jerome,  whose  thirst  for  knowledge  was  more 
intense  than  that  of  any  of  his  associates,  was 
constrained  by  force  of  circumstances  to  remain 
on  the  plantation. 

Dr.  Allen  had  grudgingly  given  the  Colonel 
till  the  last  of  November  to  pay  off  the  mortgage ; 
and  it  was  necessary  for  every  energy  of  the 
entire  family  to  be  directed  toward  that  end. 
Jerome  fully  recognized  this  fact ;  and,  having 
recovered  from  his  wounds,  manfully  set  about 
the  task,  unsparingly  lending  his  own  hand  to 
the  coarsest  and  most  menial  toil. 

Owing  to  an  exodus  of  negroes  to  the  turpen- 
tine orchards  of  Georgia,  and  to  the  Mississippi 
bottoms,  labor  was  scarce  and  high-priced  that 
season.  Jerome  was  consequently  often  forced 
to  do  double  work.     Old  Sam  was  enfeebled  by 


52  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

age,  and  his  two  sons,  Bill  and  Ben,  showed  lit- 
tle or  no  disposition  to  work.  The  Colonel,  dis- 
abled by  a  war-wound,  could  scarcely  be  taken 
into  account.  Jerome's  two  younger  brothers, 
however,  contributed  worthily  to  the  undertak- 
ing. Yet  the  outcome  of  their  combined  efforts 
seemed  anything  but  promising.  By  some  strange 
and  unaccountable  decree  of  fate,  the  boll- 
weevil  ran  riot  among  the  cotton,  and  the  bud- 
worm  among  the  corn.  But  the  brave  hearts  of 
old  Riverwood  never  faltered.  Every  economy 
was  practiced.  Every  closed  fountain  of  indus- 
try was  reopened :  new  ones  were  created. 

One  day  in  the  latter  part  of  October  Jerome 
stood  with  Old  Sam  in  the  cornfield  along  the 
river  bottom.  They  had  just  finished  pulling  the 
last  ripe  ears  from  the  bending  stalks,  and  piled 
the  precious  treasure  in  yellow  heaps  between 
the  ridges.  The  task  had  been  a  pre-eminently 
disappointing  one.  Many  an  ear  was  small  and 
shriveled ;  not  a  few  stalks  were  barren.  The 
bud-worms  had  done  their  damage  successfully. 

"It  seems  like  everything  is  against  us,"  ob- 
served Jerome,  gazing  sadly  down  the  long  rows 
where  the  soft  hues  of  eventide  lay  like  a  wine- 
colored  mist. 

"Doan  gib  up,  Marse  Romey,"  comforted  the 
old  negro.  "Doan  yer  'member  how  de  Profit 
Kerligy  wuz  s'ported  by  de  ravens.  Yassir,  de 
Lawd  sho'ly  tuck  an'  lif  up  Kerligy.  An'  he's 
gwine  ter  lif  you  up  an'  tote  you  ober  dis  trouble 
an'  tribulashun."  He  paused  and  piously  turned 
the  whites  of  his  eyes  heavenward.  "Dere  Jey 
is!     Dere  dey  is!    Marse  Romey,"  he  cried  ex- 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  53 

citedly,  pointing  to  a  flock  of  crows  which  were 
even  at  that  moment  wheeling  raucously  over- 
head. 

"Yes,  the  same  black  rascals  that  added  to  our 
miseries  by  pulling  up  the  corn  in  the  early 
spring,"  observed  Jerome,  with  a  bitter  smile, 

"Scusen  me,  Marse  Romey,"  exclaimed  the 
negro  apologetically,  "I  wuz  so  tuk  up  wid  de 
Scripter  dat  I  clar  los'  my  senses.  I  didn't  mean 
ter  make  er  mawk  uv  you,  dat  I  didn't." 

In  a  little  while  the  two  turned  from  the  field 
and  set  their  faces  toward  the  mansion.  On  the 
way  Jerome  made  a  remark,  partly  to  himself, 
about  having  to  give  up  all  his  prospects  of  en- 
tering college. 

"What  yer  reckin,  Marse  Romey,"  broke  in  the 
old  negro,  "dat  Bill  uv  mine  is  er  finkin'  er  'bout 
gwine  off  ter  school.  Yassir,  dat  nigger's  dun 
got  his  haid  sot  on  edicashun.  He  wants  ter 
smoke  de  big  segyar  an'  wear  red  kervats  lak 
dem  city  gemmen.  Bill  sez  he's  gwine  ter  go 
whar  dey's  fotched  up  ter  be  lawyers,  docters,  an' 
prescribin'  elders.  But  I  doan  lak  dis  edicatin' 
uv  niggers." 

Jerome  made  no  comment,  though  he  recog- 
nized in  what  the  negro  had  said  a  startling  truth 
• — that  a  mere  pensioner  on  a  patron's  bounty  was 
able  to  obtain  for  himself  an  opportunity  hope- 
lessly beyond  the  patron's  own  son. 

Jerome  was  stunned  and  sickened  by  the  very 
irony  of  such  a  fate.  The  fact  that  an  ignorant, 
shiftless  negro,  who  had  set  aside  the  law  of  his 
nature  with  a  spurt  of  industry,  could  grasp  with 
indifferent  ease  the  goal  of  opportunity  seemed 


54  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

strangely  incongruous.  Perhaps  Jerome  would 
have  grown  bitter  against  his  father  for  involv- 
ing the  estate  had  he  not  remembered  that  the 
long  illness  of  the  mother  had  been  largely  re- 
sponsible for  it.  The  doctor's  bill  had  been 
enormous. 

A  hundred  thoughts  whirled  through  the 
young  man's  mind  as  he  walked  on  in  silence, 
the  faithful  old  negro  trudging  like  a  patient  ox 
at  his  side.  Above  every  other  thought  rose  this : 
"I  shall  not  return  to  the  earth,  body  and  soul. 
My  dreams  of  education  shall  not  perish.  I  shall 
yet  grasp  the  Girdle  of  The  Great." 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  55 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  IRONY  OF  FATE. 

It  was  the  29th  of  November.  A  dismal  day 
had  been  followed  by  a  dark  night.  At  intervals 
the  wind,  sweeping  out  of  the  North,  howled  like 
a  hungry  wolf  around  the  mansion  of  Rocky 
Heights. 

In  a  corner  of  the  basement,  fitted  up  as  a  sort 
of  laboratory,  an  animated  discussion  was  in 
progress.  Dr.  Allen  stood  behind  a  little  counter 
with  a  half-filled  test-tube  in  his  hand.  Gabriel, 
who  had  tarried  at  Rocky  Heights  since  Thanks- 
giving, leaned  on  the  counter  in  an  attitude  of 
intense  eagerness,  which  one  unacquainted  with 
him  might  have  attributed  to  interest  in  the  ex- 
periment. This,  however,  was  far  from  being 
the  case,  as  the  young  man's  language  indicated. 

"They'll  never  raise  it  father — crop's  a  com- 
plete failure,"  he  chuckled,  with  a  note  of  grim 
humor  in  his  tone.  "Romey  Watkins's  face  looks 
long  as  a  yard-stick.    Just  as  well  foreclose." 

The  doctor  was  silent  a  moment,  in  which  he 
critically  examined  the  solution  in  the  test-tube. 
Finally  he  said,  with  a  self-satisfied  twinkle  in  his 
small  gray  eyes:  "A  cornered  rat,  my  son;  a 
cornered  rat  may  escape ;  a  caged  rat  never.    The 


56  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

Colonel  is  a  caged  rat.  We  may  play  with  him. 
Let  us  give  him  some  days  of  grace — to  gnaw  at 
his  cage  and  gnash  his  teeth. 

"And,  by  the  by,"  he  continued,  shaking  the 
solution,  "that  ore  from  the  Brandon  place  is  the 
real  stuff.     See  how  Aqua  Regia  dissolves  it!" 

"I  don't  like  your  way  of  waiting,"  grumbled 
Gabriel.  Rats  that  gnaw  sometimes  gnaw  out. 
I'm  for  slaying  the  miserable  beggars.  Kill  the 
rats  while  you've  got  'em,  or  they'll  spoil  your 
granary.    The  little  foxes — the  little  rats — ?" 

"Stop!"  cried  the  doctor,  "you're  too  fast. 
"Have  you  ever  considered  that  old  Watkins 
could  indict  you  for  secret  assault — or  at  least, 
for  a  conspiracy  to  that  effect?  You  thought  I 
knew  nothing,  but  ha !  you  are  mistaken.  I  knew 
you  were  up  to  no  angel's  work  when  I  saw  you 
hobnobbing  with  that  wooly-headed  Tim  on  the 
day  of  the  picnic.  You  know  what  followed  as 
well  as  I  do.  I  made  that  Watkins  boy  think  all 
that  stuff  about  someone  striking  his  horse  was 
an  optical  delusion;  but  his  mind  will  finally  get 
clear  on  that  point.    It  is  always  the  case." 

Gabriel's  face  lost  much  of  its  ruddy  hue;  a 
purplish  tinge  of  surprise  and  consternation  mot- 
tled his  round  cheeks. 

"Spyin'  on  me,  were  you?"  he  gasped,  chok- 
ing with  anger.  "No  confidence  in  your  own 
son.    Well,  I  don't  wonder,  but — " 

"Enough,  sir,"  snapped  the  doctor,  his  small 
eyes  blazing,  his  voice  quivering  with  rage.  "If 
you  meddle  with  my  plans,  I'll  disinherit  you  in 
two  minutes!  No  uppish,  smart-alecky  sons  for 
me!" 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  57 

Seeing  that  his  father  was  implacable  on  that 
score,  Gabriel  instantly  sought  another  point  of 
attack — one  which  he  knew  lay  near  and  dear  to 
his  father's  heart.  "Oh,  well,  I  didn't  mean  to 
hurt  your  feelings,  father,"  he  said  apologetically, 
"but  it  seemed  to  me  the  only  way  to  the  Brandon 
place." 

"To  the  Brandon  place,"  echoed  the  doctor,  a 
perceptible  softening  in  his  voice. 

"Yes.  As  long  as  Romey  Watkins  makes  a 
show  of  being  rich,  I  don't  stand  any  chance  with 
Maxine,  that's  all.  There's  nothing  that  those 
MacDonalds  won't  do  for  money.  Turn  the  Wat- 
kinses  out  and  the  marriage  between  Maxine  and 
myself  will  seem  to  Mr.  MacDonald  a  logical 
conclusion."  Gabriel  paused,  resting  both  elbows 
on  the  flimsy  counter,  his  cold  blue  eyes  glinting 
like  polished  steel  balls  in  the  guttering  candle- 
glow.  He  could  read  his  triumph  in  his  father's 
face.  He  had  touched  the  main  artery  of  avarice 
— the  heart  would  respond  to  that. 

The  doctor  replaced  the  test-tube  in  the  re- 
ceptacle, nervously  fingered  his  eye-glass,  then 
replied:  "I'm  impressed  by  what  you  say,  my 
son.  You've  got  a  good  eye  to  business.  But 
won't  the  cry  of  persecution  soften  the  girl's 
heart  toward  Jerome  Watkins  and  harden  it  to- 
wards you?" 

"Women  are  a  bundle  of  nerves  tied  together 
with  a  string  of  sentiment.  Snap  that  string  of 
sentiment  and  you've  got  hysteria.  I'd  rather 
ride  fox-hunting  on  a  blind  mule  than  to  try  to 
reason  with  a  hysterical  woman." 

"The  MacDonalds  have  a  gold-cure  for  that 


58  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

disease,"  said  Gabriel  dryly.  "It's  in  the  blood, 
and  I  venture  that  Maxine  has  her  share  of  it." 

"Well,  I'll  give  Watkins  notice  of  the  fore- 
closure to-morrow,"  snapped  the  doctor,  striving 
to  conceal  his  admiration  of  his  son's  shrewdness. 
"You  may  have  your  way  this  time,  but,  mind 
you,  if  you  fail,  it's  your  last  chance.  It  seems 
right  hard,"  he  continued,  as  a  feeble  ray  of  pity 
struggled  up  out  of  his  narrow  soul,  "right  hard 
to  turn  a  man  out  of  doors  in  winter — " 

"Oh,  don't  do  it,  father,"  came  a  pleading  voice 
whose  owner  burst  through  the  door,  and,  hurry- 
ing behind  the  counter,  placed  a  soft,  restraining 
hand  upon  the  doctor's  arm.  "Oh,  please  don't, 
father — it  would  be  too  cruel  for  anything."  Her 
large,  limpid  blue  eyes  beamed  up  at  him  be- 
seechingly. 

The  doctor  often  said  Marjorie  was  his  good 
angel,  though  he  should  have  been  ashamed  to 
confess  that  he  seldom  followed  her  guidance. 

"Go  on,  Sis,  go  on,  Sis,"  said  Gabriel,  almost 
harshly.  This  is  men's  business.  You  know 
nothing  about  it." 

"I  would  be  ashamed  to  confess  it  if  I  did," 
she, retorted,  "trying  to  persuade  father  to  turn 
Colonel  Watkins  out  of  doors." 

"Tut,  tut,  little  daughter,"  interrupted  the  doc- 
tor, smoothing  her  soft  hair,  "it's  just  a  matter  of 
business — something  you  don't  understand.  Run 
along  and  see  after  your  housekeeping." 

"But,  father,  will  you  promise  not  to — " 

"Oh,  yes,  little  girl,"  he  replied,  stooping  to 
kiss  her,  "run  along  now.  Ah,  that's  a  good 
girl." 


The  GiRDLfi  of  the  Great  '50 

"Don't  forget  your  promise,  father,"  she  called 
back  as  she  glided  through  the  door. 

The  doctor  made  no  reply.  He  meant  to  profit 
by  the  technicality.  He  had  really  made  no 
promise.  Gabriel's  reference  to  the  Brandon 
Place  had  impressed  him  more  forcibly  than  he 
cared  to  confess. 

As  for  Marjorie,  she  ascended  to  her  room 
with  strong  fear  surging  in  her  soul.  She  knew 
only  too  well  her  father's  master  weakness.  In 
fancy,  she  could  see  Colonel  Watkins  turning  his 
back  forever  on  his  ancestral  halls,  infinite 
despair  and  sorrow  written  on  his  wrinkled  brow. 
She  could  see  the  mother  and  tne  little  brothers. 
She  could  see  Jerome,  a  strange  stoop  in  his 
strong  shoulders ;  something  almost  sinister  in 
his  dark  face.  And  then  he  staggered  out  into 
the  cold  and  cheerless  world.  But  Marjorie  saw 
more  as  she  gazed  in  the  glowing  grate. 

She  saw  a  woman  step  out  of  the  shadows  and 
place  her  hand  in  Jerome's  hand ;  and  that  woman 
was  not  Marjorie  herself.  A  fierce  pang  of 
jealousy  smote  the  girl's  heart.  She,  too,  would 
willingly  go  with  him  into  homeless  poverty  and 
drmk  with  him  the  deepest  dregs  of  his  bitter 
cup.  But  that  was  not  for  her.  It  was  not  for 
her  to  watch  with  him  in  his  Gcthsemmie.  It  was 
not  for  her  to  wipe  the  sweat  of  blood  from  his 
brow.  No,  the  greatest  barrier  of  the  ages  had 
decreed  that.  Unrequited  love  may  climb  the 
mountain ;  but  it  cannot  descend  into  the  valley 
of  the  shadow.  Only  love  returned  measure  for 
measure  can  do  that. 

At  length  Marjorie  arose  and  paced  the  floor, 


6o  The  GiRDLfi  Of  the  GreaI* 

her  hands  clasped  to  her  throbbing  bosom,  her 
white  face  bespeaking  the  intensity  of  the  strug- 
gle. She  was  giving  up  all  her  dreams.  One  by 
one,  like  uncaged  birds,  they  were  flying  from 
her.  No  longer  would  their  sweet  warblings 
charm  her  fancy.  Poor  little  prisoners  of  hope, 
they  were  being  unfettered  only  to  leave  her  in 
heavier  thrall — the  thrall  of  despair. 

She  sank  into  the  chair  beside  her  writing- 
desk,  and  taking  pen  and  paper,  wrote  a  note 
into  which  she  inscribed,  as  it  were,  her  very 
heart's  blood.  Sealing  it  quickly  she  thrust  the 
envelope  in  her  bosom  and  drooped  her  fair  head 
upon  her  folded  arms. 

The  red  glow  in  the  grate  sank  to  a  dull,  life- 
less gray.  The  solitary  lamp  cast  fantastic 
shadows  on  the  wall.  Moaning  and  madness 
were  in  the  wind  as  it  leaped  through  the  trees 
and  clutched  convulsively  at  the  shutters  of  her 
little  window.  But  neither  gloom,  nor  ghost  of 
shadow,  nor  the  wild  wind  could  rob  the  woman 
of  her  triumph. 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  6i 


CHAPTER  X. 
the  white  visitor. 

Conspicuous  for  its  antique  elegance  and  beauty 
in  the  historic  old  City  of  New  Orleans  was 
Clairbourne  Hall,  the  ancestral  seat  of  the  Mac- 
Donalds.  Set  well  back  amid  its  moss-hung  trees 
and  luxuriant  shrubbery,  surrounded  by  Moorish 
fountains  and  approached  by  glistening  shell- 
stone  walks,  it  was  typical  of  the  two  great  na- 
tions, whose  tides  had  ebbed  and  flowed  and 
ebbed  to  flow  no  more  in  the  Crescent  City.  The 
first  MacDonald,  who  had  emigrated  from  Scot- 
land and  made  his  fortune  in  cotton,  had  pur- 
chased the  estate  from  a  Frenchman,  who  in  turn 
had  received  it  from  a  Spaniard. 

Of  the  MacDonalds  only  one  male  representa- 
tive— Mr.  Hector  MacDonald,  the  president  of 
the  Bank  of  Anson ville — now  remained.  He  had 
reluctantly  left  the  seat  of  his  ancient  patrimony 
on  account  of  a  persistent  malarial  affection. 
Shortly  after  his  departure,  his  brother  Hugh 
had  died,  leaving  a  wife  and  one  child — Maxine. 

Being,  as  has  been  indicated,  of  a  naturally 
studious  disposition,  Maxine  had  no  sooner 
learned  to  read  than  she  began  eagerly  to  devour 
the  knowledge  contained  in  a  choice  old  library, 


62  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

many  of  whose  volumes  had  come  down  as  an 
heirloom  from  one  of  her  forebears,  who  had 
been  a  professor  in  the  University  of  Edinburgh. 
These  volumes,  though  held  in  less  esteem  than 
the  tall  ledgers  of  the  MacDonalds,  had  been  suf- 
fered to  remain  to  preserve  the  house  from 
sacrilege. 

It  was  at  a  female  school  in  New  Orleans  that 
Maxine  had  met  and  learned  to  love  Marjorie 
Allen;  and  it  was  through  Mr.  Hector  Mac- 
Donald  that  Dr.  Allen  had  learned  of  the  institu- 
tion to  which  he  had  ultimately  sent  his  daughter. 

Strangely  enough,  Maxine  was  thinking  of 
Marjorie  on  this  bright  morning  in  December 
when  a  servant  entered  the  room  with  a  letter 
which  bore  that  young  lady's  unmistakable  in- 
scription. Maxine  was  seated  in  her  mother's 
room.  The  invalid,  who  had  somewhat  rallied 
from  a  recent  attack,  raised  her  head  wearily  as 
the  servant  drew  near.  "What  is  it?  I'm  not 
going  to  take  it,"  she  said  querulously. 

"Oh,  it's  only  a  letter  for  me — just  a  foolish 
love  letter  from  dear  old  Marjorie.  "Why,  I'll 
read  it  to  you,  mamma,"  Maxine  hastened  to  re- 
ply. 

Maxine  began  to  read.  As  she  proceeded  the 
color  fled  from  her  face,  leaving  it  almost  as 
white  as  the  sheet  which  she  held  to  her  burning 
eyes.  She  stopped  suddenly  and  thrust  the 
crumpled  page  in  her  bosom.  She  expected  her 
mother  to  express  some  surprise  at  this.  A 
glance  at  the  invalid's  face  showed  her  that  the 
opiate  which  the  doctor  had  recently  administered 
was  beginning  to  take  effect. 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  63 

'Did  you  say  it  was  a — a — letter  Maxy?"  the 
invalid  queried  in  a  dreamy,  far-off  tone. 

"Yes,  a  letter,  mamma,"  Maxine  breathed 
softly  as  she  bent  over  and  pressed  a  warm  kiss 
to  the  invalid's  brow.  "A  letter  that  only  an 
angel  could  have  written." 

Then  Maxine,  tucking  the  cover  more  closely 
about  the  sleeper,  swiftly  sought  her  own  cham- 
ber. Arrived  there,  she  threw  herself  upon  her 
bed,  buried  her  face  in  the  pillows  and  wept  bit- 
terly. What  could  she  do  ?  She  was  almost  alone 
in  the  world.  Her  mother,  the  one  to  whom  she 
could  most  naturally  take  her  trouble,  was  prac- 
tically in  the  borderland  between  life  and  death. 
.She  knew  her  uncle  too  well  to  appeal  to  him. 
He  could  be  as  pitiless  as  he  was  pleasant  where 
money  was  concerned.  It  was  true  she  had 
money  in  her  own  right,  but  she  could  scarcely  ^ 

run  the  gauntlet  of  her  uncle's  guardianship  to  \^ 

obtain  relief  for  a  bankrupt  planter.  And  even 
if  she  could,  Colonel  Watkins  and  Jerome  would 
doubtless  refuse  to  accept  it. 

Jerome's  proud,  sensitive  nature  would  recoil 
from  such  humiliation.  He  would  hate  her  for 
it.  He  would  despise  an  education  purchased  by 
patronage.  And  she  would  despise  him  if  he  ac- 
cepted it.  Her  knight  must  bear  his  own  cross, 
wear  his  own  crown  (of  thorns  if  need  be), 
grasp  his  own  girdle.  What  manhood  could  be 
developed  by  munificence?  What  nobility  could 
spring  from  noblesse  oblige f 

Over  against  these  thoughts,  like  a  pointed  ice- 
berg against  an  arctic  sky,  rose  the  cold,  hard 
fact  that  Dr.  Allen  was  about  to   foreclose  a 


64  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

mortgage  on  Riverwood.  Though  she  might  not 
understand  the  legal  terms  and  technicalities,  she 
knew  only  too  well  that  this  boded  no  good  to 
Jerome.  Turned  from  his  home  into  the  cold  of 
winter — a  stranger  in  the  house  of  his  father — 
what  foothold  could  he  gain  to  re-estabHsh  him- 
self? Gabriel  Allen  would  glory  in  the  down- 
fall. It  would  be  a  honeyed  wafer  to  his  shriv- 
eled soul.  Maxine  shivered  as  these  thoughts 
coursed  through  her  mind.  She  was  caught  be- 
tween the  upper  and  nether  millstones.  To  turn 
either  way  was  to  be  crushed.  But  suddenly  as 
she  groped  in  the  oppressive  darkness  a  light  of 
possibility  burst  upon  her.  Why  not  put  the  mat- 
ter in  another's  hands?  Almost  upon  the  heels 
of  this  idea,  she  recalled  an  old  friend  of  her 
father's  whom  she  could  trust  implicitly.  He 
lived  in  New  York  City.  She  would  write  him 
the  particulars  as  nearly  as  possible,  placing  her 
case  in  his  hands. 

In  the  strength  of  this  resolution,  she  rose 
from  her  bed,  went  to  her  writing-desk,  and, 
seizing  pen  and  paper,  wrote  like  one  inspired : 

"My  Dear  Mr.  Graves  :  Perhaps  you  will  be 
surprised  to  receive  this  letter,  and  even  more 
surprised  when  you  read  its  contents.  I  am 
aware  that  I'm  about  to  ask  of  you  an  unusual 
favor — so  unusual,  indeed,  that  I  shall  ask  it 
only  on  the  basis  of  your  long  and  honored  in- 
timacy with  my  dear  father. 

"To  come  at  once  to  the  gist  of  the  matter,  I 
wish  you  to  prevent  the  foreclosure  of  a  mort- 
gage held  by  a  certain  Doctor  Allen  on  the  es- 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great 


65 


tate  of  Riverwood,  on  the  Pee  Dee  River,  near 
Ansonville,  N.  C.  My  reason  for  this  you  shall 
know  at  some  future  time.  I  will  be  personally 
responsible  for  the  amount  expended.  Please  at- 
tend to  this  matter  at  once,  as  the  mortgage  is  to 
be  foreclosed  as  soon  as  the  legal  time  of  notifi- 
cation has  expired.  And  last  of  all,  my  dear  Mr. 
Graves,  may  I  not  ask  that  my  name  shall  not 
appear  in  the  matter  at  all  ? 

"With  sincere  esteem,  I  beg  to  subscribe  my- 
self, 

"Your  faithful  friend, 
"Maxine  MacDonald." 

She  glanced  over  the  letter  quickly,  folded, 
sealed  it  in  a  plain  white  envelope  and  wrote  the 
address. 

"Ah,  Marjorie,"  she  murmured,  picking  up  the 
letter  which  Marjorie  had  written  and  turning  it 
over  as  tenderly  as  though  it  were  a  wounded 
bird,  "this  cost  you  a  bitter  sacrifice — mine  only 
a  bitter  struggle.  I  envy  you — you  have  paid 
more  than  I  can  pay — you  are  more  worthy  of 
his  love  than  I  am  worthy — and  yet — " 

The  door  of  her  room  swung  open  and  a 
trained  nurse,  who  had  been  recently  engaged, 
looked  in,  an  expression  of  tender  sympathy  in 
her  gentle  eyes. 

Maxine  sprang  to  her  feet,  reading  the  mes- 
sage at  a  glance.  "Has  anything  happened  ?"  she 
gasped,  her  lips  trembling  with  suspense,  a 
quaver  of  fear  in  her  smothered  tone. 

"You  must  bear  up  bravely,  my  child,"  said 
the  nurse,  approaching  and  placing  her  strong. 


66  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

sympathetic  arm  about  ]\Iaxine's  waist,  "Your 
mother  has  just  taken  a  change  for  the  worst, 
and  is  sinking^  rapidly.  Come  with  me."  She 
bore  the  girl  half-fainting  to  the  room  where  the 
mother  lay  gasping  out  her  life.  With  a  wild 
cry  Maxine  sank  to  her  knees  beside  the  couch 
and  pressed  her  pale  lips  to  the  nerveless  hands. 
And  there  she  clung,  her  slight  form  convulsed 
with  great  heartbroken  sobs  till  the  kindly  old 
doctor,  who  had  lost  his  brave  fight  with  death, 
gently  led  her  away. 

"It  is  our  poor  human  heritage,"  my  daughter, 
he  said  in  a  soothing  fatherly  tone  as  he  smoothed 
her  fair  hair,  "and  none  can  refuse  to  accept  it. 
But  the  Great  Physician  has  made  it  golden  with 
the  glory  of  his  resurrection.  He  has  broken  the 
shadows  with  bright  beams  of  hope.  He  will  be 
with  you  to-day,  and  it  shall  be  well  with  you." 

Thus  did  the  wise  old  physician,  who  had 
learned  to  prescribe  for  the  physical  as  well  as 
for  the  spiritual  ailments  of  his  patients,  prepare 
Maxine — if  anyone  is  ever  prepared — for  the 
final  ordeal. 

The  letter  which  was  to  save  Riverwood  lay 
forgotten  in  Maxine's  room;  and  time  was 
precious. 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  (fj 


CHAPTER  XI. 

AN   APPEAL   TO  THE   PRIMITIVE. 

The  6th  of  December  was  a  dark  day  at  River- 
wood,  for  quite  another  reason  besides  the  failure 
of  the  sun  to  penetrate  a  thick  layer  of  steel  gray 
clouds.  The  Colonel  had  only  the  night  before 
returned  from  Ansonville,  where  he  had  seen, 
conspicuously  posted  in  the  court  house,  a  flaring 
notice  of  the  sale  of  Riverwood.  The  avaricious 
little  doctor  had  been  as  careful  to  comply  with 
legal  requirements  as  he  had  been  scrupulous  to 
avoid  an  encounter  with  the  Colonel. 

On  his  return  to  Riverwood,  the  Colonel  had 
informed  his  family  of  the  disagreeable  fact 
which  they  had  long  anticipated  with  nameless 
dread.  The  mother  and  the  younger  boys  re- 
ceived the  information  tearfully,  Jerome  in  stolid 
silence.  He  had  drunk  the  cup  of  disappoint- 
ment so  often  recently  that  he  accepted  its  bitter- 
ness without  a  grimace.  Nevertheless,  the  cir- 
cles beneath  his  eyes,  as  he  sat  with  the  others 
at  breakfast  next  morning,  betrayed  that,  in  com- 
mon with  his  parent,  he  had  spent  a  sleepless 
night. 

The  meal  passed  in  almost  unbroken  silence. 
Yet  the  influence  of  the  information,  which  was 
information    only    in    its  startling  reality,  was 


68  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

clearly  traceable  on  the  features  of  the  diners. 
Colonel  Watkins  paused  more  than  once  to  pull 
nervously  at  his  short  moustache,  and  to  contem- 
plate his  cofifee-cup,  while  the  mother  wiped  bit- 
ter tears   from  her  dark  eyes.     Jerome  ate  his 
breakfast  with  characteristic  calmness.    His  face 
was  hard — almost  cynical.     What  mattered  it  to 
him  if  he  were  crushed  down?    The  world  was 
wide  and  great — and  he  was  young.     He  would 
yet  win  out  in  life's   strenuous   struggle.     The 
steel  in  his  character   rang  defiance  to   defeat. 
But  his  parents — they  whose  years  were  fast  flee- 
ing through  the  gaping  gates  of  life — when  he 
thought  of  them,   his   face   softened  to   a   sym- 
pathetic glow.    That  sorrow  should  come  to  them 
in  the  days  which  by  right  of  restitution  should 
be  sweet  as  the  chime  of  twilight  bells,  peaceful 
as  a  placid  rivulet  red  with  the  wine  of  the  after- 
glow, well  nigh  broke  his  heart.     How  could  he 
know    the    pangs    which    pierced    them    at    the 
thought  of  giving  up  the  old  nest  into  which  the 
years   had   woven   so   many   golden   strands   of 
precious  memory!      How    could    he  know  the 
pangs  of  the  ancient  oak  uprooted  from  its  native 
soil — the    soil    which    had    given   it  blood  and 
brawn — to  be  transplanted  in  alien  place !  Jerome 
recognized  his  limit,  and  was  silent.     Some  day 
he  might  know  these  things,  but  not  now. 

"I  went  to  see  Mr.  MacDonald  to  borrow  the 
money  from  him.  He  had  been  called  to  New 
Orleans  by  the  death  of  his  sister-in-law,"  said 
the  Colonel  at  length. 

Jerome  started.  Maxine's  mother  was  dead. 
A  throb  of  warm  sympathy  for  the  girl  in  her 


The  Girdle  of  tHE  Great  69 

grief  leaped  out  of  his  heart.  Like  a  wireless 
telegram  it  flashed  out  and  out  through  the  long 
leagues;  and  mayhap  her  shadowed  heart  read 
its  message  in  warm  waves  of  light.  For  who 
can  say  that  there  is  not  a  strange,  silent  telpher- 
age between  heart  and  heart? 

"Do  you  really  think  you  could  get  the  money 
from  Mr.  MacDonald?"  asked  Mrs.  Watkins, 
anxiously.  "He's  said  to  be  a  hard  man  about 
money  matters." 

"There's  little  doubt  of  it.  The  estate  is  suf- 
ficient security  for  more  than  the  amount  of  the 
mortgage.  I'd  rather  be  in  MacDonald's  hands, 
even  if  he  is  a  little  close,  than  to  be  in  the 
mouth  of  that  shark — that  Shy  lock  with  his  can- 
nibalistic craving  for  a  pound  of  flesh."  The 
Colonel  pushed  off  his  chair,  and  sat  gazing  medi- 
tatively into  space,  a  troubled  expression  in  his 
blue  eyes. 

"And  even  if  I  should  fail  in  that,"  he  con- 
tinued, after  thoughtful  silence,  "there  will  be 
money  enough  left  from  the  sale  of  the  estate  to 
buy  a  small  farm." 

The  chivalrous  old  Colonel  had  spoken  with- 
out due  regard.  He  was  so  accustomed  to  honor 
that  he  never  looked  for  duplicity  in  the  lives  of 
his  fellows.  He  was  so  familiar  with  the  knights 
of  the  Old  South  that  he  forgot  the  knaves  of  the 
Nezv.  It  never  occurred  to  him,  for  instance, 
that  Dr.  Allen  might  in  some  shrewd  way  so 
manage  the  sale  of  the  estate  as  to  leave  no  bal- 
ance. 

Jerome,  however,  was  less  sanguine,     "Sup- 


70  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

pose  there  should  be  no  balance,  father  ?"  he  sug- 
gested. 

"Why,  what  do  you  mean,  my  son?" 

"That  Doctor  Allen  might  arrange  to  buy  the 
estate  at  the  price  of  the  mortgage — " 

"Impossible,"  interrupted  the  Colonel,  "that 
would  be  conspiracy  to  defraud." 

Jerome  had  too  much  respect  for  his  father  to 
enter  into  a  controversy  with  him,  so  he  let  the 
matter  drop.  But  he  strongly  suspected  that  Dr. 
Allen  and  Mr.  MacDonald  were,  in  many  mat- 
ters, "hand-in-glove." 

They  had  all  risen  from  the  breakfast  table 
and  were  standing  about  the  fire,  as  was  their 
custom,  when  old  Sam  entered,  announcing  the 
presence  of  Dr.  Allen  on  the  veranda.  A  dark 
frown  clouded  the  Colonel's  brow;  he  bit  his  lip 
fiercely.  He  was  tempted  to  order  the  Doctor 
from  his  premises.  But  sense  of  hospitality  as- 
serted itself.  The  Colonel  was,  first  of  all,  a 
gentleman — a  gentleman  of  the  old  regime — and 
he  could  not  be  discourteous  in  his  own  house, 
even  to  an  enemy.  He  had  never  expressed  con- 
tempt for  the  meanest  of  his  guests.  Moreover, 
the  Doctor  had  been  his  family  physician,  and 
whatever  the  Colonel's  present  attitude  might  be, 
he  was  not  ungrateful  for  former  favors.  He 
resolved,  therefore,  to  be  respectful,  if  frigidly 
formal. 

"Mornin',  sir,  come  in  to  the  fire,"  he  said  with 
stately  dignity,  as  he  opened  the  hall  door  and 
gazed  down  upon  the  sturdy  form  of  the  little 
Doctor. 

"No,  thank  you,"  the  Doctor  replied.     "I  re- 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  71 

fused  the  servant's  invitation.  I  just  stopped 
by  a  minute  on  business — about  the — er — mort- 
gage. I  would  like  if  possible  to  leave  you  in 
possession  of  Riverwood."  The  Doctor  drew 
nearer  to  the  Colonel  and  continued  in  a  lowered 
tone:  "I've  just  learned  this  morning  that  you 
have  a  claim  on  the  Brandon  place — a  claim 
which  antedates  the  mortgage  held  by  Mr.  Mac- 
Donald.     Is  it  true?" 

"It  is,"  replied  the  Colonel,  laconically. 

"Then  if  you'll  make  it  over  to  me,  you  may 
continue  in  possession  of  Riverwood,"  said  the 
Doctor  obsequiously.  "I'm  very  anxious  to  have 
the  Brandon  place  because  it  adjoins  my  prop- 
erty." 

"You  do  not  know  that  the  title  to  the  estate  is 
involved?  You  are  not  informed  of  legal  techni- 
calities, which,  however,  much  we  may  regret 
them,  prevent  either  Mr.  MacDonald  or  myself 
from  obtaining  full  possession." 

The  Colonel's  keen  blue  eyes  darted  through 
the  little  Doctor. 

The  Doctor  grew  red  in  the  face  till  he  seemed 
on  the  verge  of  apoplexy.  "I  assure  you,  sir, 
that  I  did  not  know  it,"  he  stammered,  giving  one 
of  his  side-whiskers  a  vigorous  twist.  "I  only 
thought  to  relieve  you  of  your  distress." 

"Riverwood  is  indeed  a  distressful  possession," 
observed  the  Colonel,  deliberately  knocking  over 
the  Doctor's  straw  man  of  studied  sympathy ;  "so 
much  so,  indeed,  that  it  is  to  be  exposed  for  sale 
at  public  auction." 

"Well,  business  is  business,"  said  the  Doctor 
impatiently. 


7^  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

"And  rascality  is  rascality,"  thundered  the 
Colonel,  his  eyes  blazing,  his  lips  quivering  with 
rage. 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?"  retorted  the  Doctor. 

"Precisely  what  I  say,"  snapped  the  Colonel. 

"You're  grossly  misjudging  me,  sir,"  inter- 
posed the  Doctor.  "It  has  always  been  my  pur- 
pose to  do  the  square  thing.  I  meant  to  retain 
you  as  a  tenant,  but — " 

That  was  too  much  for  the  man  whose  aristo- 
cratic forebears  had  held,  as  barons  hold,  the 
fertile  acres  of  River  wood.  With  a  movement 
marvelously  swift  for  one  of  his  age  the  Colonel's 
long  arm  shot  out,  and  striking  the  Doctor 
squarely  between  the  eyes,  sent  him  sprawling 
backward  to  the  bottom  of  the  steps. 

"Thus  I  deal  with  gamesters!"  cried  the 
Colonel,  white  with  rage.  "Thus  I  deal  with 
those  who  dare  to  gamble  with  my  honor !" 

The  Doctor  speedily  scrambled  to  his  feet  with 
a  pistol  in  his  hand.  "Coward !"  he  gasped,  cock- 
ing the  weapon  and  drawing  it  on  a  level  with 
the  Colonel's  heart.    "Prepare  to  die !" 

"I  have  looked  death  in  the  face  before  to-day 
and  have  not  faltered;  I'm  always  prepared  to 
die,"  was  the  cool  retort.  The  Colonel  folded  his 
arms  across  his  breast  and  gazed  unflinchingly 
into  the  Doctor's  shifty  eyes.  Something  in  the 
fine  hauteur  of  the  princely  figure,  or  the  splen- 
did scorn  of  the  noble  features,  strangely  awed 
the  Doctor. 

Determined,  however,  if  possible,  to  frighten 
the  Colonel,   he   repeated  the   requirement,   ac- 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  73 

centuating  it  by  drawing  still  nearer  with   the 
pistol  held  unswervingly  to  its  course. 

"Prepare  to  die!"'  he  repeated,  but  quick  as  a 
flash  the  Colonel  kicked  the  weapon  from  his 
hand,  and,  springing  down  the  steps,  closed  with 
him  in  a  desperate  struggle. 

A  moment  later  the  door  opened  behind  them 
and  Jerome  rushed  on  the  scene.  Almost  at  the 
same  instant  Gabriel  was  seen  running  up  the 
avenue  from  where,  seated  in  his  father's  buggy, 
he  had  watched  the  entire  proceeding.  He  came 
with  lowered  head — with  the  snort  and  frenzied 
fury  of  a  maddened  bull.  As  he  drew  nearer, 
Jerome  caught  the  gleam  of  a  long,  keen  knife 
in  his  hand.  Jerome  knew  only  too  well  what 
that  meant.  With  a  bound  he  grasped  the  pistol 
which  lay  a  few  feet  from  the  struggling  men 
and  barred  Gabriel's  way. 

"Stop!  or  I  shoot,"  he  shouted.  But  Gabriel 
paid  no  more  heed  to  him  than  he  would  have 
paid  to  his  shadpw.  Having  firmly  gripped  his 
cowardice  in  a  desperate  dash  to  deliver  his 
father,  he  could  not  be  easily  turned  from  his 
purpose.  In  truth,  his  reason  was  temporarily 
throttled,  and  he  came  on  and  on,  his  eyes  burn- 
ing, his  breath  whistling  hoarsely  through  his 
nostrils. 

"Stop!"  shouted  Jerome  once  more  when  Ga- 
briel was  but  a  few  yards  distant.  It  only  served 
to  increase  his  speed.  And  suddenly  taking 
deadly  aim,  Jerome  pulled  the  trigger.  The  pis- 
tol snapped.  Again  he  pulled,  and  again  it 
snapped.  Gabriel  was  almost  upon  him.  Al- 
ready the  knife  was  poised  for  the  fatal,  cleaving 


74  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

thrust.  A  furious  curse  rose  from  Gabriel's 
frothing  lips.  Jerome  desperately  pulled  the 
trigger,  but  all  in  vain. 

Desperate  dilemmas  demand  desperate  deeds. 
Quickly  recalling  an  old  practice  which  had  often 
enabled  him  to  win  the  bases  in  the  games  of 
ball,  Jerome  made  a  swift,  sliding  swoop  to- 
wards Gabriel's  feet.  By  happy  fortune,  he 
caught  him  firmly  around  the  legs  and  brought 
him  heavily  to  the  ground,  the  knife  plunging 
hilt  deep  in  the  soft  soil.  Before  the  enraged 
youth  could  recover  from  the  shock,  Jerome  had 
wheeled  and  was  upon  him  with  the  strength 
and  courage  born  of  splendid  manhood  and  su- 
preme need. 

Gabriel  wriggled  futily  in  the  firm  grasp.  Sud- 
denly his  courage  deserted  him  and  Jerome  had 
his  way  with  him. 

The  Doctor,  too,  came  out  somewhat  the  worse 
for  wear.  He  had  taunted  the  old  lion  of  River- 
wood  once  too  often.  Perhaps  the  artful  physi- 
cian did  not  know  that,  gold  emblazoned  on  an 
ancient  shield  hidden  away  in  the  Colonel's  gar- 
ret, was  this  inscription :  "Peacably  if  possible, 
forcibly  if  necessary." 

As  for  Gabriel  and  his  father,  they  never  dared 
to  climb  their  family  tree  for  fear  of  breaking  a 
rotten  limb.  They  returned  to  Rocky  Heights, 
however,  determined  to  compass  land  and  sea  to 
accomplish  the  downfall  and  utter  ruin  of  the 
Watkinses. 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  75 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  FORECLOSURE  OF  THE  MORTGAGE. 

A  funeral  is  scarcely  sadder  than  the  fore- 
closure of  a  mortgage  on  an  old  and  time- 
honored  estate.  Little  by  little  the  owners  help- 
lessly— sometimes  hopelessly — reconcile  them- 
selves to  the  loss,  attending  the  sale  as  they 
would  attend  the  last  obsequies  of  a  departed 
relative.  And  the  final  crash  of  the  auctioneer's 
hammer  is  like  the  thud  of  clods  on  the  coffin. 
For  the  place  that  once  knew  its  master  may 
know  him  no  more  forever;  and  he  is  like  the 
grass  of  his  fields. 

Colonel  Watkins  and  Jerome  had  arrived  early 
at  Anson ville.  In  fact,  before  the  earliest  riser 
among  the  villages  had  peered  forth  to  see  what 
manner  of  day  it  was,  the  rattle  of  their  buggy 
wheels  had  been  heard  on  the  frozen  street.  The 
Colonel  had  come  early  for  two  reasons :  first  be- 
cause he  wished  to  hold  a  short  conference  with 
Mr.  MacDonald;  secondly  because  he  wanted  to 
show  the  people  that  he  was  neither  ashamed  nor 
afraid  to  face  his  fate.  On  the  red  fields  of  bat- 
tle he  had  never  flinched  nor  fled  from  his  place  ; 
and  he  would  not  do  it  now.  The  same  in- 
domitable strain  compelled  Jerome  like  a  long 
lever  protruding  through  the  mist  of  centuries. 


y6  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

There  had  been  touching  scenes  at  Riverwood 
that  morning.  Not  the  least  among  them  being 
the  generosity  of  Old  Sam.  He  had  risen  long 
before  anyone  else  to  harness  and  hitch  their 
horse. 

"Marse  Dick,"  he  had  said,  approaching  the 
Colonel  as  they  started  to  drive  off,  "we  all  's  in 
de  far  uv  tribulashun.  You  fust  an'  fo'must. 
You  needs  holdin'  up.  De  old  nigger's  gwineter 
do  de  bes'  he  kin  fer  ye.  I'se  bin  layin'  up  dis 
money  fer  er  long  time — "  he  removed  a  well- 
worn  shot-bag  from  his  coat  and  handed  it  to 
the  Colonel— "Tek  hit  an'  use  hit.  De  old  nig- 
ger kaint  do  no  mo'  dan  gib  yar  all  he's  got." 

Both  the  Colonel  and  Jerome  had  been  greatly 
moved  by  the  old  man's  devotion ;  and  he  had 
seemed  hurt  because  they  refused  his  offering. 
He  could  not  realize  that  his  mite  would  not 
prove  powerful  in  lifting  the  mortgage.  His 
spirit  was  great  enough  to  lift  mountains. 

Twelve  o'clock,  the  hour  appointed  for  the  sale, 
was  almost  at  hand.  A  'small  crowd  had  gath- 
ered before  the  front  door  of  the  old-fashioned, 
square-cornered  court  house.  Nearby  a  giant 
oak  towered  up,  rough  and  ragged  with  winter 
— a  solitary  sentinel  at  the  Temple  of  Justice. 
The  tree's  frowning  shadow  fell  upon  the  group 
of  men  at  its  feet,  as  if  the  sale  were  destined  to 
be  a  travesty  of  Justice. 

The  Colonel  and  Jerome  stood  directly  beneath 
the  oak.  Some  distance  away,  near  the  court 
house  steps,  stood  Gabriel  and  Dr.  Allen,  still 
wearing  the  signs  of  their  recent  encounter. 

The    Colonel's     conference    with    Mr.    Mac- 


"  '  Wliat  am  I  offered  as  a  starter  for  tlie  estate  of 
R'verwood  ?'  the  auctioneer  bawled." 


Faring  /'ii.ar  11 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  'jj 

Donald  had  been  formal  and  fruitless.  The 
banker  was  coolly  courteous.  He  had  once  been 
warmly  so — when  the  Colonel's  bank  account  was 
large.  Mr.  MacDonald  made  it  clear  to  the 
Colonel  that  he  did  not  care  to  loan  any  money  on 
real  estate  with  the  present  condition  of  the  cot- 
ton market. 

Suddenly  a  little  hollow-eyed,  sallow-faced, 
lantern-jawed  fellow  popped  up  on  the  court 
house  steps  like  a  jack-in-the-box  and  read  the 
notice  of  the  sale.  He  needed  no  introduction — 
he  was  the  real  estate  undertaker,  and  he  seemed 
to  take  a  peculiar  funereal  pleasure  in  his  profes- 
sion. He  was  the  tool  or  the  fool  (the  terms  are 
synonymous)  of  Doctor  Allen,  and  occupied  his 
spare  time  in  soliciting  notes  for  the  shaving  par- 
lors of  that  artful  financial  barber. 

"What  am  I  offered  as  a  starter  for  the  estate 
of  Riverwood?"  the  auctioneer  bawded.  He 
scrupulously  avoided  any  reference  to  the  pecu- 
liar merits  of  the  plantation. 

"$2,ooo!"  cried  a  heavily  built  man,  who  had 
just  been  talking  with  Doctor  Allen. 

"$2,ooo  —  $2,000  —  $2,000  —  who'll  make  it 
three?"  cried  the  auctioneer. 

"$3,000,"  rang  out  a  voice  from  a  far  corner 
of  the  crowd.  The  Doctor  chuckled.  Things 
were  running  smoothly  in  the  grooves  he  had 
fashioned — and  few  would  ever  be  the  wiser. 

"$3,500,"  quickly  cried  the  first  bidder. 

"$4,000,"  chimed  in  the  second. 

"$4,500,"  cried  another. 

"$5,000,"  roared  the  heavy  man.     It  was  the 


78  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

amount  of  the  mortgage  and  a  bland  smile  of 
satisfaction  stole  over  the  Doctor's  face. 

"$5,ooo.  Are  you  all  done?"  called  the  auc- 
tioneer in  a  sepulchral  tone. 

A  prolonged  silence  ensued.  "$5,000,  once," 
he  continued,  "$5,000,  twice,  $5,000  three  times 
and—" 

"$6,000,"  rose  a  voice  with  a  Northern  accent 
from  the  extreme  edge  of  the  crowd.  Dr.  Allen 
pricked  up  his  ears  and  gazed  fearfully  toward 
a  neatly-dressed  middle-aged  man,  who  had 
silently  approached  from  the  direction  of  the 
depot.  Suddenly  the  blood  left  the  Doctor's  face, 
and  an  expression  of  fear  dulled  his  eyes. 

Ananias  Blake,  the  auctioneer,  was  well  nigh 
paralyzed.  His  sallow  face  became  a  sickly 
green.  His  hollow  eyes,  as  he  swung  his  lan- 
tern-jawed features  toward  Doctor  Allen,  had 
in  them  a  certain  fishy  stare.  His  hesitancy  and 
helpless  attitude  said  plainly  enough  to  Doctor 
Allen:     "And  now  what?" 

The  Doctor,  realizing  the  danger  of  the  situa- 
tion, shot  him  a  withering  glance.  "Go  on,"  he 
cried  angrily,  "what's  the  matter  with  you?" 

"$6,000 — who'll  say  seven?"  stammered  An- 
nanias,  actually  showing  a  stain  of  red  in  his 
earth-colored  face. 

"$7,000,"  called  the  large  man,  who  had  been 
consulting  with  the  Doctor. 

The  Doctor  himself  had  suddenly  found  it 
necessary  to  go  over  to  the  Bank  to  see  Mr.  Mac- 
Donald. 

"Eight  thousand!"  promptly  bid  the  stranger. 

Another  pause.     Ananias  began  to  show  re- 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  -79 

newed  signs  of  palsy.  He  quickly  found  his 
tongue  when  the  Doctor's  agent  raised  the  bid 
to  nine. 

''Nine  thousand  dollars;  are  you  all  done? 
Nine  thousand  once,  nine  thousand  twice — " 

"Twelve !"  said  the  stranger  in  a  voice  per- 
fectly calm  and  self-possessed,  but  with  a  deter- 
mination to  end  the  matter. 

The  crowd  gazed  agape  at  him. 

Ananias's  eyes  bulged  out  of  their  hollows  and 
his  lantern-jaws  hung  low.  He  stared  helplessly 
at  the  big  man,  who  was  acting  as  the  Doctor's 
agent,  and  the  big  man  stared  helplessly  at  him. 
They  were  evidently  unprepared  for  this  bomb. 
It  was  two  thousand  dollars  beyond  the  agent's 
limit.  Both  of  them  gazed  longingly  toward  the 
Bank  across  the  way.  But  the  Doctor  was  not 
forthcoming. 

"Call  ther  bid!"  cried  Jeffreys,  the  ferryman 
who  happened  to  be  present.  "What's  ther  mat- 
ter with  ye?"  Three  or  four  sti'irdy  farmers  in- 
stantly bore  up  the  demand,  pushing  their  way 
vigorously  to  the  front.  "Things  hez  got  ter  be 
done  square  here,"  one  said  meaningly,  "we 
aint  a-goin'  ter  stand  no  injestice." 

"I'm  sick — and  can't  proceed,"  whined  Ana- 
nias, wiping  clammy  sweat  from  his  brow.  His 
complexion  was  corpse-like.  His  eyes  were  like 
those  of  a  dead  fish. 

"Got  ter  consult  ther  Doctor,  hey?"  cried  Jef- 
freys, catching  up  a  limb  which  had  fallen  from 
the  oak.  "Well,  I  reckon  ye'll  perceed,  er  I'll 
perceed.  Ye've  fergot  that  yer  namesake  wuz 
struck  dead  fer  liein'  erbout  Ian.'  " 


8o  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

Gabriel  and  the  big  agent  stared  helplessly  at 
each  other.  The  crowd  was  against  them,  and 
they  did  not  dare  to  interfere. 

Ananias  looked  frantically  about  for  a  way  of 
escape.  He  also  sent  a  tense  thought  of  appeal 
toward  the  distant  Bank.  The  Doctor  was  still 
invisible. 

"Go  on!"  shouted  the  bystanders,  rushing  up. 

"Twelve  thousand  dollars,"  he  faltered.  "Are 
you  all  done  ?  Twelve  thousand  dollars  once ; 
twelve  thousand  dollars  twice ;  twelve  thousand 
dollars  three  times  and  sold  to" — 

Ananias  paused  and  stared  stupidly  at  the 
stranger. 

"Creighton  Graves,"  supplied  the  stranger 
with  a  twinkle  of  humor  in  his  gray  eyes. 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  8i 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  NEW  WOMAN  AND  THE  NEW  MAN. 

"You  may  occupy  Riverwood  as  long  as  you 
wish,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Creighton  Graves,  in  re- 
sponse to  the  Colonel's  inquiry  as  to  when  pos- 
session was  desired.  "I  shall  ride  over  to-mor- 
row and  see  the  property.  Meanwhile,  sir,  make 
yourself  perfectly  at  ease.  I  have  a  very  favor- 
able proposition  which  I  shall  then  submit  to 
you." 

"And  now,"  he  concluded,  cordially  extending 
his  hand,  "I  must  excuse  myself  to  settle  that 
mortgage  held  by  Doctor — Doctor — Doctor  Al- 
len." 

"I  am  very  grateful  for  your  kindness,  sir," 
said  the  Colonel  warmly;  "and  I  shall  be  ready 
to  ride  with  you  over  the  plantation."  "At  any 
rate,  Jerome,"  the  Colonel  remarked  as  they 
turned  away,  "we  shall  deal  with  a  gentleman. 
And  I  am  never  afraid  of  a  gentleman.  He's  the 
same  in  the  dark  that  he  is  in  the  light ;  he'll  deal 
no  foul  blows.  North  or  South,  a  gentleman's 
a  gentleman." 

Jerome  made  no  immediate  reply.  There  was 
a  mystery  about  the  purchase  of  the  estate  by  the 
stranger  which  he  was  essaying  to  solve.  How 
could    this    naturally    disinterested   party   have 


82  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

learned  of  the  sale  of  the  property?  and  why 
was  he  so  generous  in  offering  them  an  in- 
definite occupancy  ?  Ponder  as  he  would,  Jerome 
could  not  unlock  the  door  to  this  mystery — 
even  with  skeleton-key  of  acute  mental  concen- 
tration. "Yes,  father,"  he  said  at  length,  "I  am 
glad,  too,  that  he  seems  to  be  a  gentleman.  It 
is  pleasant  to  deal  with  a  man  of  warmth  and 
courtesy.  I  only  hope  that  he  is  not  deceiving 
us." 

"I  know  one  when  I  see  him,"  returned  the 
Colonel.  I've  had  so  much  experience  with  paste 
diamonds  that  I  know  the  real  glitter." 

They  were  passing  a  small  grocery-store,  and 
the  air  being  raw  and  penetrating,  Jerome  pre- 
vailed upon  his  father  to  go  in  and  remain  by 
the  fire,  while  he  went  on  for  their  horse  and 
buggy. 

On  the  way  to  the  livery-stable  it  was  neces- 
sary to  pass  Mr.  MacDonald's  house.  The 
banker  had  built  it  with  a  view  to  bachelorhood. 
And  he  had  built  into  it  much  of  his  own  moral 
and  physical  likeness.  It  looked  selfish  and  sour. 
The  yellow  lawn  seemed  to  have  wrinkled  and 
contracted  within  itself.  From  the  narrow  win- 
dows of  the  house,  one  gained  but  a  stingy,  sor- 
did view  of  the  world  through  starving,  stunted 
shrubs  and  trees.  No  hot-house  for  plants  and 
flowers  was  apparent.  The  master  of  the  house 
had  neither  time  nor  taste  for  such  unprofitable 
possessions. 

In  a  distant  corner  of  the  yard,  however,  a 
pigeon-box  presented  an  animated  scene  of 
parti-colored  birds.     It   was   another   testimony 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  83 

to  the  fact  that  every  man  has  his  hobby.  The 
banker's  hobby  was  squahs-on-toast. 

Jerome,  being  in  no  particular  hurry,  and  also 
something  of  a  fowl- fancier,  paused  at  a  con- 
venient angle  to  observe  a  pair  of  fan-tailed 
pigeons.  As  he  stood  contemplating  them,  a 
woman,  whom  he  supposed  to  be  a  servant, 
turned  the  corner  of  the  house  and  approached 
the  pigeon-box.  The  birds  flew  eagerly  down 
to  pick  up  the  grain  which  she  threw  out.  In  a 
moment  she  turned  toward  Jerome,  and  he  recog- 
nized her  with  a  start. 

"Maxine!"  he  cried. 

"Mr.  Watkins!"  she  gasped. 

He  vaulted  the  fence  and  was  quickly  at  her 
side. 

"When  did  you  come?"  he  queried  softly, 
pressing  her  hand  in  his  strong  grasp.  He  noted 
that  she  was  all  the  more  beautiful  for  her  sad- 
ness, and  that  black  brought  her  fair  face  into  a 
delicate,  delightful  relief — a  rose  amid  ebony. 

"Day  before  yesterday,"  she  answered  sadly, 
her  voice  quavering,  tears  trembling  in  her  eyes. 
"I  shall  live  here  with  my  uncle — he's  all  I  have 
left  now,  and — " 

"Maxine,"  he  broke  in,  tightening  his  grasp 
upon  her  fingers,  "my  heart  bled  for  you  then. 
It  bleeds  for  you  now — hungers  for  your  love. 
And  all  the  more  because  you  have  lifted  your 
love  beyond  its  reach. 

"River  wood  was  sold  to-day — a  stranger 
bought  it.  It  may  be  several  years  before  I  can 
accomplish  what  you  have  set  for  me.  Perhaps 
never." 


/ 


84  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

"But  you  must,"  she  insisted.  "And  we  must 
get  out  of  this  wind.    It  is  very  cold." 

She  led  the  way  into  the  parlor  where  a  cheer- 
ful fire  glowed  in  the  grate. 

He  repeated  the  encounter  with  Aliens  and  the 
incident  of  the  sale  in  which  the  auctioneer 
Ananias  Blake  had  so  plainly  betrayed  his  al- 
legiance to  them. 

She  listened  attentively,  her  bosom  heaving, 
her  eyes  aflame  now  and  then.  "And  did  my 
uncle  refuse  to  lend  you  the  money?"  she  said 
finally. 

"Yes." 

"Ah,  it's  the  old  weakness,"  she  sighed.  "He 
couldn't  see  a  profit  in  it.  There  has  been  only 
one  in  our  family  who  loved  knowledge  better 
than  he  loved  gold ;  and  his  picture  was  never 
hung  in  our  hall." 

"You  say  the  purchaser,  Mr.  Creighton 
Graves,  is  going  to  Riverwood  to-morrow?"  she 
continued,  looking  away  from  him  into  the  fire 
that  she  might  not  betray  the  secret  by  her  ex- 
pression. 

"Yes — and  he's  the  mystery  to  me,"  replied 
Jerome.  "How  did  he  happen  to  come  down  to 
the  sale?  what  interest  has  he  in  us  anyway  that 
he  bids  my  father  remain  at  Riverwood  indefi- 
nitely? I  confess  I  don't  understand  it.  Do 
you?"  _ 

Maxine  shrank  from  this  pointed  question. 
She  did  not  wish  to  speak  falsely ;  neither  did  she 
care  to  confess  her  complicity  in  the  matter.  That 
would  only  serve  to  humiliate  him — perhaps  to 
drive  him  from  her. 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  85 

"Possibly  he  may  be  on  the  lookout  for  a  win- 
ter-resort, or  a  gold-mine,"  she  suggested,  still 
studying  the  coals  in  the  grate. 

**In  the  latter  case  he's  seeking  to  solve  a  mys- 
tery as  great  as  himself,"  he  replied.  "I  do  not 
know  of  any  gold  hereabout." 

"I  do  not  know  what  proposition  he's  going  to 
make  my  father,"  he  ran  on.  "At  any  rate  I 
shall  not  be  able  to  enter  college  in  the  spring — 
perhaps  not  the  next  fall,  nor  the  next,  nor  the 
next.  I  cannot  leave  my  father  overburdened. 
That  would  be  as  despicable  as  a  college-course 
is  desirable." 

"And,  Maxine,"  he  said  with  sudden  im- 
patience," is  Love  something  to  be  kept  her- 
metically sealed  in  one's  heart  for  four  years? 
Does  it  like  wine  become  better  and  sweeter  with 
age?"  He  caught  her  hands  in  his  and  gazed 
hungrily  into  the  placid  depths  of  her  blue  eyes. 

"Jerome,"  she  answered,  dwelling  tenderly 
upon  his  name,  "I  have  dreamed  for  you  great 
things — noble  deeds  and  strong.  I  have  wished 
that  you  might  go  to  college  not  for  what  four 
years  can  supply  but  for  what  they  can  suggest. 
To  many  education  means  a  finished  course — a 
scroll  of  sheepskin — a  gift  in  gilt;  to  you  it 
should  mean  infinitely  more  than  this ;  the  begin- 
ning of  strength,  the  Girdle  of  the  Great. 

"Many  young  men  go  to  college  in  love,  and 
becoming  interested  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge, 
outgrow  the  old  ideal.  It  is  well.  It  is  the  sign 
of  strength.  Alany,  on  the  contrary,  sacrifice 
their  future  for  a  sickly  sentiment,  which  after- 
wards dies.    That  is  the  dead  level — the  burying- 


86  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

ground  of  manhood.  I  love  you  too  well  to  drag 
you  down  to  that." 

"To  drag  me  down  to  that?"  he  echoed. 
"You've  kindled  the  noblest  aspirations  that  ever 
burned  in  my  soul !  You  could  not  do  otherwise 
than  uplift  me.  I  would  stake  my  life  upon 
it." 

"The  wings  that  teach  the  young  eagles  how  to 
fly  must  not  fetter  them  in  their  flight,"  she  re- 
plied with  seeming  irrelevancy. 

"Among  primitive  folk,"  she  ran  on,  "the  hero 
appealed  to  his  heroine  with  trophies  of  the  chase, 
and  sterner,  bloodier  trophies  swinging  at  his 
belt.  These  were  the  badges  of  physical  prowess 
— the  bagatelles  of  brutes.  We  have  made  com- 
mercial progress:  the  gory  fleece  has  become 
golden  fleece.  To-day  we  stand  upon  the  thres- 
hold of  true  progress.  He  who  in  the  future 
shall  approach  to  ask  in  marriage  the  heart  and 
hand  of  the  educated  woman  must  come  with 
his  manhood  girt  about  with  moral  and  intel- 
lectual trophies — and  the  woman  must  be  worthy 
to  receive  them." 

Jerome  gazed  upon  the  girl  with  almost  open- 
mouthed  wonder.  Her  brilliancy — the  fine  scorn 
of  her  language  when  directed  against  commer- 
cialism— her  prophetic  foresight,  all  these  over- 
whelmed him. 

"So  you  condemn  me  as  a  Philistine — as  one 
unlearned?"  he  said  at  last,  a  great  burden  on 
his  heart,  "for  I  have  brought  you  neither  gold 
nor  learning — only  the  love  old  as  Eden." 

She  started  to  reply,  but  the  sound  of  ap- 
proaching  footsteps  caught  her  ear.     A  voice 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  87 

was  heard — one  that  Jerome  recognized — Ga- 
briel Allen's  voice.  He  was  with  Mr.  MacDonald, 
and  they  were  coming  up  the  walk. 

"You  must  go  now,"  said  Maxine,  touching 
Jerome  gently  on  the  sleeve;  "they  mustn't  see 
us  together — sometime  I'll  explain."  She  hur- 
ried him  through  the  portiere,  down  the  hall, 
thence  out  the  way  he  had  entered. 

"Good-bye,"  she  whispered,  pressing  his  hand, 
"and  don't  forget  what  I  have  said." 

And  Jerome,  wondering  what  it  all  meant, 
leaped  the  low  wall  and  went  on  to  the  livery- 
stable. 


88  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

REVELATIONS    AT   RIVERWOOD. 

True  to  his  word,  IMr.  Creighton  Graves,  after 
a  sleepless  night,  set  out  for  Riverwood.  (In 
fact,  the  hostelry  beds  were  so  hard  that  one 
might  have  been  said  to  board  there  in  at  least 
two  senses.)  He  was  an  average-sized,  well- 
built  man.  His  clothes  never  failed  to  fit  him 
perfectly.  His  features  were  strong  and  agree- 
able, his  keen  gray  eyes  giving  him  the  appear- 
ance of  a  discerning  man  of  affairs.  But  while 
his  entire  expression  betrayed  excellent  judgment 
and  tireless  energy,  it  was  devoid  of  the  fox-like 
cunning  which  characterized  the  features  of  Dr. 
Allen  and  Mr.  Hector  AlacDonald. 

Colonel  Watkins  had  instinctively  spoken 
truthfully  in  saying  that  Mr.  Creighton  Graves 
was  a  gentleman.  For  he  was  worthy  of  that 
appellation,  having  ever  borne  himself  with  be- 
coming decorum  through  the  currents  which 
rushed  dangerously  between  the  Scylla  and 
Charybdis  of  Social  and  Commercial  life. 

He  had  received  Maxine's  letter  just  in  time 
to  reach  Anson ville  on  the  day  of  the  sale. 

In  the  Colonel  he  had  found  just  such  a  man 
as  the  postscript  to  Maxine's  letter  had  suggested 
—a  warm-hearted,  high-strung,  high-toned  gen- 


The  GikDLE  of  iUe  Grea^  ^ 

tlertian  of  the  old  regime.  Nor  had  he  been  far 
wrong  in  his  speculative  estimate  of  Dr.  Allen. 
He  had  pictured  a  leech  and  found  a  vampire — a 
difference  of  degrees. 

His  interview  with  Allen  had  been  brief — just 
long  enough  to  transact  the  necessary  business — • 
but  something  about  the  Doctor's  face  had 
seemed  faintly  familiar.  The  Doctor  had  been 
nervous  and  ill  at  ease.  With  Mr.  MacDonald 
Mr.  Graves  had  simply  shaken  hands.  The 
banker  betrayed  no  sign  of  ever  having  heard  of 
him — a  fact  for  which  he  was  profoundly  grate- 
ful. This  would  render  Maxine's  secret  more 
secure.  And  while  it  was  an  altogether  worthy 
secret,  Mr.  Creighton  Graves  was  not  sorry  for 
it  to  be  well  guarded. 

Having  met  Jerome,  he  had  filled  out  the  un- 
written lines  in  Maxine's  letter.  Though  pos- 
sessing the  proper  appreciation  of  a  romance, 
Mr.  Graves  had  ifo  disposition  to  figure  in  one 
conspicuously  at  his  time  of  life.  He  proposed, 
however,  to  do  everything  possible  for  his  old 
friend's  daughter;  and  with  him  that  always 
meant  much. 

It  was  cloudy  when  Mr.  Creighton  Graves  and 
his  driver  left  Ansonville;  by  the  time  they 
reached  Riverwood  it  was  snowing.  The  air  was 
raw  and  chilly.  But  he  was  warmly  welcomed. 
Old  Sam,  his  black  face  aglow  with  hospitality 
and  his  strong  white  teeth  agleam,  stood  ready  to 
take  the  horse,  and  later  to  bear  off  the  colored 
boy  who  had  driven  Mr.  Graves  over.  The 
Colonel,  Jerome  and  his  younger  brothers  all 
came  forward  to  greet  the  stranger,  the  mother 


go  The  Girdle  of  the  GREAf 

being  busy  in  the  dining  room.  He  was  ushered 
into  a  great  room  where  a  roaring  open  fire 
leaped  merrily  up  the  black  throat  of  the  wide 
old-fashioned  fire-place.  In  the  soft  ruby  glow 
the  polished  brass-andirons  gleamed  like  bur- 
nished gold.  And  every  piece  of  the  antique  fur- 
niture, from  the  big  black  mohair  lounge  in  the 
corner  to  the  ancient  oil-paintings  on  the  high 
walls,  shone  with  a  rich,  resplendent  light. 
Everything  bespoke  elegance  and  refinement.  In- 
deed, Mr.  Creighton  Graves  rightly  suspected 
that  before  him  was  more  than  one  heirloom  and 
hall-mark  of  colonial  civilization. 

As  the  hours  passed  he  was  the  recipient  of 
the  most  unstrained  and  unstudied  hospitality. 
Not  once  was  he  reminded  by  the  least  word  or 
the  slightest  suggestion  that  he  was  a  Northerner. 
He  could  not  have  been  made  more  at  ease  if  he 
had  been  a  Southerner  of  the  bluest  blood.  Nor 
was  the  attitude  of  his  host  in  the  least  obsequious 
or  patronizing.  It  was  the  true,  old-fashioned 
Southern  style — a  hospitality  with  heart  in  it. 

Colonel  Watkins  did  not,  as  most  naturally  he 
might  have  done,  suggest  that  they  had  probably 
fought  on  opposite  sides  in  the  war.  Perhaps 
that  colossal  conflict  would  not  have  been  men- 
tioned at  all  had  not  Mr.  Graves,  partly  out  of 
curiosity,  taken  from  the  mantel  the  pistol  which 
Doctor  Allen  had  neglected  to  carry  off  on  the 
day  of  the  difficulty. 

"This  recalls  a  stirring  incident  in  my  life. 
Colonel,"  he  said,  holding  up  the  pistol.  "And  by 
the  way  let  me  see  if  it  is  empty,  for  most  people 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  91 

killed    by    pistols    nowadays    are  killed  by  un- 
loaded ones." 

"I  can  vouch  for  it  being  unloaded,  sir,"  said 
Jerome.  And  inwardly  he  rejoiced  that  it  had 
been  unloaded  on  the  day  of  his  encounter  with 
Gabriel  Allen;  for  he  wanted  no  man's  blood  on 
his  hands. 

"Well,  as  I  was  going  to  say,"  continued  Mr. 
Graves,  "I  was  Major  of  a  regiment.  In  the 
battle  at  Bull  Run  (and  you  whipped  us  there 
and  did  it  well,  too,  Colonel)  I  was  desperately — 
it  was  thought  mortally — wounded  and  left  for 
dead  on  the  field. 

"Night  came  on  and  still  I  was  unremoved,  our 
men  having  fled  panic-stricken  back  to  Wash- 
ington. I  was  in  great  agony,  being  consumed 
by  burning  thirst.  I  finally  prayed  for  death  to 
end  my  sufferings,  having  given  up  all  hope  of 
human  aid.  Suddenly  my  attention  was  arrested 
by  a  stealthy  step,  and  raising  my  head  with  in- 
tense pain  a  few  inches  from  the  ground,  I  be- 
held in  the  pale  moonlight  one  of  those  human 
vultures,  who  follow  the  battle-fields,  silently 
robbing  the  dead.  Weak  as  I  was,  my  blood 
boiled  at  the  sight  and  I  resolved  if  possible  to 
resist  his  loathsome  touch.  Somewhat  strength- 
ened bv  this  resolution,  I  attempted  to  reach  m^y 
pistol,  but  the  effort  re-opened  my  wound  and  I 
sank  back  exhausted. 

"Finally  the  ghoul  stood  over  me  and  prodded 
me  sharply  with  his  sword  to  ascertain  if  I  were 
dead.  I  cried  out.  calling  him  a  coward,  and  he 
cursed  me,  drawing  his  weapon  to  run  me 
through.      He    would    doubtless    have  accom- 


g2  The  Girdle  of  the  GREAt 

plished  his  purpose,  had  not  a  nearby  sound  of 
hurrying  footsteps  burst  on  his  ears.  Suspecting 
that  he  might  need  it,  he  bent  over  quickly  and 
removed  my  pistol,  and  turning,  fled  like  a 
hyena  into  the  dark. 

"My  deliverer  proved  to  be  a  Confederate  cap- 
tain. I  was  so  weakened  by  loss  of  blood  that 
I  must  have  fainted  shortly  after  his  arrival ;  for 
I  remember  only  that  his  voice  was  soft  and 
sympathetic — strikingly  like  yours,  Colonel — • 
and  that  he  wore  the  epaulets  of  a  Captain  of 
Infantry.  When  I  regained  consciousness,  he 
was  pressing  a  canteen  of  cool  water  to  my  lips 
(how  delightful  it  was!).  Later  he  gave  me 
some  brandy  and  bound  up  my  wound" — 

"Why,  what  is  the  matter.  Colonel?"  IMr. 
Graves  exclaimed,  dropping  the  thread  of  his 
narrative,  "are  you  sick"? 

The  Colonel's  face  was  indeed  calculated  to 
inspire  surprise.  It  was  written  all  over  with 
wonder.  "Why,  you  are  my  Yankee  Major!"  he 
cried,  bounding  to  his  feet. 

"And  you — are  my  Confederate  Captain!" 

For  a  moment  they  confronted  each  other, 
half-credulously,  then  a  wave  of  recognition 
broke  over  either  face. 

Suddenly  the  Northerner  contradicted  the 
theory  concerning  the  phlegmatic  disposition  of 
his  people ;  he  gathered  the  tall  Southerner  in  a 
crushing,  brotherly  embrace.  There  was  noth- 
ing maudlin  in  it.  It  was  magnificent.  It  was 
manly.  It  was  prophetic.  And  the  swirling 
snow,  sweeping  over  field  and  forest,  was  typical 
of  the  white  wings  of  peace. 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  93 

"Did  you  ever  notice  how  many  important 
things  hinge  on  the  seemingly  insignificant, 
Colonel?"  said  Major  Graves  at  length.  "Who 
would  ever  have  thought,  for  instance,  that  this 
reunion  and  recognition  would  have  been  brought 
about  by  such  a  trivial  thing  as  the  sight  of  an 
old  army  pistol?  I  came  very  near  not  noticing 
it  at  all." 

"And  this  pistol,  too,"  he  ran  on,  examining  the 
weapon  more  closely,  "is  quite  similar  to  the  one 
taken  from  me  on  that  memorable  night.  And  if, 
like  the  famed  Alladin's  lamp,  it  would  enable  me 
to  discover  also  my  ghoul" — the  Major  spoke 
playfully,  smiling  at  the  interest  instantly  depicted 
on  the  faces  of  the  boys — "I  would  indeed  con- 
sider it  most  wonderful."  He  instinctively 
turned  the  heavy  handle  to  the  right,  disclosing  a 
secret  spring  which,  upon  being  pressed,  caused 
the  pistol  to  open,  revealing  in  the  handle  a  space 
large  enough  to  contain  a  half-dollar  piece.  His 
hands  trembled,  his  eyes  widened  with  wonder 
and  incredulity.  The  color  left  his  face — he  was 
gazing  upon  the  miniature  photograph  of  his 
wife.  A  tear  brimmed  in  his  eye  and  coursed 
swiftly  down  his  strong  face.  For  a  moment  he 
looked  aged  and  broken.  Then  he  passed  the 
photograph  to  the  Colonel.  "That  is  a  picture  of 
my  wife  who  died  while  I  was  away,"  he  gasped. 
"This  is  the  pistol  that  was  taken  from  me  at 
Bull  Run." 

"What!"  cried  the  Colonel,  "that  pistol  yours!" 

"Yes." 

"Incredible,"  exclaimed  the  Colonel,  returning 
the  miniature,  "and  yet  it  must  be  true." 


94  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

"Who  did  you  say  claimed  this  pistol?"  asked 
Major  Graves,  scarcely  crediting  what  he  had 
seen  and  heard. 

"Doctor  Allen — he  brought  it  over  here  the 
other  day  to  bully  me.  Leaving  slightly  worsted, 
he  forgot  to  take  it  back  with  him." 

"Then  he  may  be  the  ghoul  who  robbed  me. 
I  thought  I  had  seen  him  before,  though  I  could 
not  recall  when  and  where." 

Then  Major  Graves  tenderly  enclosed  the  pho- 
tograph in  a  bit  of  tissue  paper  and  placed  it  in 
his  wallet.  "The  world  is  full  of  strange  things," 
he  observed,  "and  almost  every  day  I  am  offered 
stronger  evidence  that  truth  is  stranger  than  fic- 
tion." 

Just  then  the  dinner-bell  rang. 

To  thoroughly  enjoy  a  good  dinner,  such  as 
was  set  for  Major  Creighton  Graves  on  this  oc- 
casion, it  is  necessary  to  dismiss  from  one's  mind 
all  mental,  moral  and  marvelous  pabulum,  and  to 
become  simply  a  good  animal.  This  all  the  diners, 
with  the  exception  of  Jerome,  apparently  suc- 
ceeded in  doing.  There  was  some  mystery  for 
whose  solution  he  was,  according  to  the  most  con- 
servative estimate,  nothing  less  than  over- 
anxious: the  mystery  of  Major  Graves'  presence 
on  the  day  of  the  sale. 

And  when  the  Colonel  and  his  guest  finally 
walked  out  on  the  veranda  to  observe  the  condi- 
tion of  the  weather,  Jerome  went  too.  Perhaps 
some  suggestion — some  hint — might  slip  the 
leash  of  secrecy,  if  secrecy  there  were. 

It  had  stopped  snowing.  The  sun,  bursting 
through  the  clouds,  shone  for  a  few  moments  on 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  95 

the  wide,  white  world,  and  on  the  mighty  river 
winding  through  its  ermine  hills  like  wine  of 
gold  from  a  broken  cruse  of  alabaster. 

"A  beautiful  vista,"  observed  Major  Graves, 
as  his  eyes,  kindling  with  admiration,  wandered 
over  the  spotless  stretch  of  field  and  valley,  bor- 
dered by  the  black  bastions  of  the  lowering 
clouds.  "We  can't  ride  over  the  estate  to-day,  as 
we  are  snugly  snowed  in,  but  I  shall  see  it  at 
some  future  time.  Indeed,  the  most  rigid  re- 
quirement I  shall  make  of  you — the  Major 
winked  at  Jerome — is  room  and  board  while  I  am 
down  here  on  a  fishing  tour  every  summer.  And 
if  you,  when  you  accompany  me  in  my  Izaak 
Walton  peregrinations,  don't  string  more  fish 
than  you  do  sharks,  I'll  immediately  foreclose 
my  mortgage."  He  emphasized  the  statement  by 
gently  tightening  his  grasp  upon  the  Colonel's 
arm. 

"Seriously,  sir,"  said  the  Colonel  laughing, 
"how  did  you  learn  that  I  had  fallen  a  victim  to 
your  shark?" 

Jerome's  dark  eyes  glistened.  He  could  have 
hugged  his  father  for  asking  that  question. 

"It  may  be,"  the  merchant  answered  slyly, 
looking  off  toward  the  river,  "that  a  merchant- 
man like  me  sometimes  finds  it  necessary  to  har- 
poon in  foreign  waters.  For  instance,  when  our 
schools  of  sharks  become  scarce  in  New  York 
City,  we  must  seek  them  elsewhere.  In  other 
words,  we  must  keep  our  hands — our  hooks — 
in." 

Jerome's  castle  of  hope  fell  with  a  crash — the 
Major  was  a  diplomat. 


g6  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

"You  Yankees  beat  the  earth  in  the  art  of  serv- 
ing diplomatic  dishes — half-truths  with  sauce; 
suppositions  in  the  shell."  The  Colonel's  face 
beamed  with  mischievous  merriment. 

"And  you  Southerners,"  retorted  the  Major 
good  naturedly,  "never  know  any  better  than  to 
take  the  shells  and  sauce  seriously." 

"Oh.  come  on,  let's  go  in  to  the  fire,"  said  the 
Colonel,  taking  his  guest  affectionately  by  the 
arm.  "We  did  our  sparring  thirty-odd  years 
ago ;  and  we  gave  each  other  then  a  plenitude  of 
shells  and  pepper-sauce." 


Long  after  the  others  had  retired,  two  old  men 
might  have  been  seen,  still  shooting  inquiries  at 
each  other  through  a  thick  fog  of  cigar-smoke. 

"The  Negro  Problem,"  said  the  Major,  after 
a  brief  interval  of  suggestive  silence.  "What  do 
you  do  with  it  down  here?" 

"We  leave  what  is  left  of  it  to  fools  and 
fanatics,"  drawled  the  Colonel.  "And  the  fools 
and  fanatics  we  leave  to  Jerry  Holmes.  Really, 
sir,  there  is  no  Negro  Problem.  Occasionally  we 
have  a  problematic  negro.  We  are  not  bothering 
our  heads  with  any  problems  just  now.  Such 
things  like  the  laws  of  the  universe  adjust  them- 
selves. It  is  as  fixed  as  the  decrees  of  the  Eter- 
nal that  the  white  man  shall  remain  a  white  man 
and  the  negro  a  negro.  And  this  is  not  denying 
the  negro  his  rights  as  a  man,  nor  as  a  citizen, 
except  in  so  far  as  he  shall  forfeit  them  by  crime. 
In  that  event,  the  white  man  shares  with  the  in- 
telligent black  man  in  the  great  basic  opinion  that 
the    suppression    of    crime  is  the    purport  and 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  97 

province  of  the  law.  But  these  separate  tides  of 
humanity,  rising,  swelling  and  surging  to  the 
flood-height  of  their  destiny  shall  no  more  mingle 
than  the  gulf  stream  and  the  Atlantic  Ocean  shall 
mingle." 

"In  the  prosperity  of  the  negro,"  the  Colonel 
went  on,  after  blowing  fresh  clouds  of  smoke, 
"we,  of  the  South,  rejoice.  We  are  glad  for  him 
to  eat  the  fruits  of  his  industry.  We  encourage 
him;  we  buy  his  produce  and  sell  him  land." 

"But  are  you  doing  anything  for  him,  educa- 
tionally t"  queried  the  Major. 

"We  pay  the  bulk  of  the  taxes  and  he  shares 
equally  in  their  distribution,"  replied  the  Colonel. 
"If  you  will  pardon  me.  Major,"  he  continued, 
without  the  slightest  trace  of  irritation,  "may  I 
ask  if  you  are  doing  anything  for  him  indus- 
trially" f 

"No" — after  a  moment's  hesitation — "I  must 
confess  that  New  York  City  is  the  city  of  the 
white  man's  job." 

"As  I  was  about  to  remark,"  the  Colonel  con- 
tinued without  comment,  "We  mean  to  educate 
the  Negro,  but  not  to  put  a  fire-brand  in  his 
hands  or  foolish  notions  in  his  head.  We  want 
him  to  be  more  industrious,  more  thrifty,  less 
shiftless,  less  unreliable.  Let  him  be  Lawyer,  or 
Doctor,  or  Preacher,  or  Teacher,  or  what  he  will ; 
but  let  him  not  on  that  account  aspire  to  set 
aside  the  universal  law  of  racial  instinct — the 
affinity  of  like  for  like  which  the  Almighty  has 
implanted  in  the  breast  of  all  creatures.  To  put 
it  more  plainly,  sir,  you  never  saw  a  crow  seek- 
ing to  cast  his  lot  among  snow-white  pigeons; 


pS  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

and  you  never  will.  As  I  said  before,  however, 
we  have  no  Negro  Problem,  only  a  few  proble- 
matic negroes.  For  the  majority  have  no  desire 
to  be  other  than  what  God  has  seen  fit  to  make 
them ;  and  in  being  honest,  industrious,  peace- 
ful, law-abiding,  and  full-blooded  negroes,  they 
fulfill  their  highest  destiny." 

The  Colonel  paused,  and  waited  for  the  Major 
to  speak.  No  unkindly  word  had  been  spoken. 
The  aristocratic  old  Southerner  had  expressed 
his  honest  convictions,  clearly,  forcibly  and  fear- 
lessly, as  he  had  always  done. 

"I  never  saw  things  in  that  light  before,"  said 
the  Major,  still  alert,  despite  his  sleepless  night 
at  Ansonville,  "And  do  you  tell  me  that  the 
Negroes  share  equally  with  the  whites  in  the  dis- 
tribution of  the  Public  School  Fund?" 

"Yes.  My  old  man  Sam  (And  there  never 
was  a  more  faithful  servant;  he  refused  to  be 
freed)  has  two  boys — Bill  and  Ben.  These  boys 
attended  the  free-school  for  Negroes.  Last  Fall, 
Bill  went  ofif  to  a  Negro  college,  while  my  son 
Jerome,  whose  thirst  for  knowledge  is  most  in- 
tense was  constrained  by  force  of  circumstances 
to  remain  on  the  farm.  Bill's  idea  of  education 
can  be  summed  up  in  two  words — Big  Man. 
This  includes  everything  superficial.  But  you 
can  scarcely  blame  the  Negro.  Naturally,  he  re- 
gards educational  progress  as  a  mere  matter  of 
outward   show — a  jingle  of  bells  and  baubles." 

"But  is  it  not  true,  my  dear  Colonel,"  inter- 
posed the  Major,  "That  the  negro  is  capable  of 
greater  intellectual  progress?" 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  99 

"Oh,  yes,  that's  true.  His  progress,  however, 
will  be  slow.  He  must  first  clear  up  his  wilder- 
ness of  mental  weeds.  And  when  the  negro's 
mental  powers  are  fully  developed,  he  will  no 
longer  desire  Social  Equality — He  will  then  see 
its  folly — Its  utter  futility.  One  of  the  greatest 
benefits  of  education  is  to  be  found  in  the  fact 
that  it  teaches  a  man  where  to  stay,  as  well  as 
where  to  go." 

"You  are  right,  Colonel,  and  like  many  of  our 
leading  thinkers  I  am  coming  more  and  more  to 
see  that  the  South  is  fully  able  to  deal  with  this 
and  all  other  problems,  and  that  if  left  alone  she 
will  eventually  settle  them  to  the  satisfaction  of 
all  parties." 

The  Major  suddenly  yawned  and  stretched 
himself  full-length  in  his  chair  before  the  dying 
fire. 

"You  are  getting  sleepy.  Major,"  observed  the 
Colonel,  rising,  "Come  let  me  show  you  to  your 
room."  He  led  the  way  to  an  elegantly-furnished 
room  in  which  a  great  oak-wood  fire  was  yet 
blood-red  in  its  glow.  In  one  corner  of  the  room 
a  tall  bed  with  snow-white  covering,  but  with 
warm  blankets,  sandwiched  between  feathers  and 
counterpanes,  invited  to  sweet  and  refreshing 
repose. 

"You  will  doubtless  have  dreams  enough  of 
pistols  and  problematic  negroes,"  called  the 
Colonel  cheerily,  as  he  closed  the  door.  "But  if 
you  are  a  somnambulist,  don't  take  me  for  your 
ghoul  or  a  problematic  negro." 

"No  danger  of  that,"  laughed  his  guest. 


100  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

And  Major  Creighton  Graves  went  to  sleep 
that  night  with  one  great  purpose  firmly  fixed  in 
his  mind :  to  give  Jerome  Watkins  the  chance  of 
a  college  education. 


The  Girdle  of  the  GREAf  161 


CHAPTER  XV. 

AN  EXCEEDING  HIGH  MOUNTAIN. 

If,  according  to  the  standard  of  the  Epicurean, 
the  dinners  at  Riverwood  were  excellent,  the 
breakfasts  were  par  excellence.  No  meal,  pre- 
pared at  Delmonico's  or  elsewhere,  can  surpass  a 
Southern  breakfast.  Its  chief  glory  lies  not  in 
elaborate  courses,  but  in  the  consummate  skill  of 
preparation. 

The  Major  paid  Mrs.  Watkins  the  highest  com- 
pliment possible  on  the  excellence  of  her  fare — 
he  ate  heartily. 

"A  fine  day  for  a  rabbit  hunt,"  observed  the 
Colonel,  suddenly  turning  his  attention  from  the 
meal  to  gaze  through  the  window  at  the  broad 
vistas  of  untrodden  snow.  "How  would  you  like 
to  try  one.  Major?" 

"Very  much,  indeed,  sir,"  returned  the  Major, 
"But  business  engagements  call  me  home.  I 
shall  be  compelled  to  leave  this  morning;  and  to 
leave  most  reluctantly,  I  assure  you.  I  have 
never  spent  a  more  pleasant  day  and  night." 

"The  snow  is  too  deep  for  you  to  drive  back 
in  your  buggy,"  interposed  the  Colonel  triumph- 
antly, "It  snowed  again  in  the  night.  You  would 
make  but  a  sorry  business  of  getting  back  to  An- 
sonville.  You  had  better  stay  with  us  till  the 
thaw  sets  in." 


lo2  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

"That  would  be  delightful,  Sir,  but  I  shall  be 
compelled  to  keep  my  engagement.  A  failure  to 
keep  one's  word  is  fatal  to  all  forms  of  success." 
The  Major  spoke  decisively ;  and  it  was  apparent 
that  by  firmness  and  fidelity  he  had  won  success. 

"Well,  if  you  will  go,"  said  the  Colonel  re- 
luctantly, "You  must  go  in  my  sleigh.  Jerome 
can  drive  with  you  to  keep  you  company.  My 
rheumatism  pains  me  or  I  would  go  with  you 
myself.  The  negro,  who  drove  you  over,  can 
come  later.  I  know  the  livery-man  and  it  will  be 
alright  with  him." 

At  last,  Jerome  and  Major  Graves  were  on  the 
way  to  Ansonville.  Swiftly  and  silently,  save 
for  a  soft,  crunching  sound,  they  sped  over  the 
trackless  road.  Up-hill  and  down,  they  coursed, 
a  stinging  breeze  in  their  faces. 

"Jerome,"  said  Major  Graves,  as  they  were 
passing  a  dilapidated  farm-house,  "Do  you  wish 
to  spend  your  days  on  a  farm,  and  perhaps  have 
the  misfortune  to  own  one  like  that?" 

"I  do  not  object  to  remaining  on  the  farm,  Sir, 
if  I  may  first  fulfill  my  ambition  for  a  college 
course.  I  think  the  main  cause  of  agricultural 
failure,  with  the  exception  of  climatic  conditions, 
is  ignorance."  The  young  man  spoke  enthusiasti- 
cally but  without  egotism. 

"You  are  right,  my  boy,"  exclaimed  the  Major, 
with  evident  admiration.  "Few  possess  the  earth- 
knowledge.  Thousands  till  the  soil  and  die  with- 
out ever  learning  its  secrets.  The  success  of 
North  Carolina,  in  almost  every  respect,  depends 
upon  the  proper  application  of  the  proper  ele- 
ments to  the  soil,  the  basic  principle." 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  I63 

"You  are  right,  Sir,"  said  Jerome  with  en- 
thusiasm still  evident  in  his  tone.  "I  know  that 
the  enrichment  of  our  land  shall  mean  much  to 
our  people.  They  will  be  happier  and  more 
progressive  as  the  land  is  made  richer." 

"No  doubt  about  that,  and  your  wealth  which 
is  now  seeking  other  States,  will  remain  at  home. 
Besides,  other  States,  instead  of  drawing  frorfl 
you,  will  help  to  enrich  you." 

"Education  —  Industrial  education,"  con- 
tinued the  Major,  "Is  what  you  need  in  the 
South.  An  education  which  weans  too  many  men 
from  the  soil  is  harmful.  We  need  fewer  pro- 
fessional men  and  more  farmers.  The  farmer 
should  be  almost  as  much  a  man  of  science  as 
the  average  professor  of  chemistry ;  that  is  to 
say,  with  reference  to  the  peculiar  elements  which 
constitute  his  soil.  The  theory  that  only  fools 
should  farm  and  go  into  the  ministry  has  long 
since  been  exploded.  Premiums  in  the  future 
shall  be  placed,  not  so  much  upon  what  a  man 
does,  as  upon  how  zvell  he  does  it.  Labor  is 
honorable  in  proportion  to  the  skill  employed  in 
its  execution." 

Jerome  listened  with  rapt  attention  and  silent 
wonder.  Here  was  a  man  whose  mind  had  not 
been  trammeled  by  trade  or  tradition ;  whose 
world  was  not  circumscribed  by  the  almighty  dol- 
lar; an  honest  man  who  dared  to  think  openly, 
broadly  and  boldly. 

"Jerome,"  said  Major  Graves,  suddenly  chang- 
ing the  subject,  "If  you  really  wish  to  go  to  col- 
lege, I  will  provide  a  way  for  you  to  go.  I  have 
no  son  of  my  own  and  would  esteem  it  a  great 


1(34  "^HE  GlRDLfe  OF  THE  CsEAf 

privilege,  as  well  as  a  pleasure,  to  be  able  to  do 
something  for  the  ambitious  son  of  my  pre- 
server." 

Jerome  made  no  immediate  reply.  He  was 
tempted  by  the  generous  offer.  It  showed  him 
the  easy  way — the  short  cut — to  an  education. 
By  availing  himself  of  this  offer  he  would  the 
sooner  possess  Maxine's  hand.  Perhaps,  if  he 
refused  the  opportunity,  the  day  of  his  marriage 
would  be  far  distant,  if  not  hopelessly  lost  in  the 
dim  horizon  of  the  future. 

But  in  the  face  of  these  thoughts  rose  others 
of  the  majesty  and  strength  of  manhood.  What 
nobility  was  ever  developed  through  exercise  by 
proxy?  He  would  not  appreciate,  as  a  man 
should  appreciate  in  order  to  realize  the  fullness 
of  his  strength,  a  mere  gift  of  generosity.  That 
would  be  a  borrowed  girdle.  It  would  possess 
for  him  no  secret  charm  of  toilsome  days  and 
nights.  In  his  opinion,  power  sprang  often  from 
perseverance ;  prominence  from  patience.  How 
many  sons  of  rich  men  had  he  known  to  squander 
their  chance  in  life;  the  spendthrift  was  always 
as  prodigal  of  brain  as  he  was  of  purse.  The 
same  burning  madness  consumed  both.  To  thor- 
oughly appreciate  a  thing,  a  man  must  work  for 
it — the  miner  for  his  gold ;  the  diver  for  his 
pearl. 

"You  are  very  generous.  Sir,"  he  said  finally, 
"and  I  deeply  appreciate  your  offer.  But  some- 
how I  have  always  wanted  to  work  out  my  own 
way.  I  would  know  then  what  my  education 
cost  me.  I  would  know  how  to  value  it  in 
moments  and  hours.    Do  not  think,  though,  even 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  105 

^  for  a  moment,  Sir,  that  I  fail  to  appreciate  your 
kindly  interest  in  me." 

"You've  got  the  right  stuff  in  you,"  exclaimed 
the  Major,  unable  to  conceal  his  admiration. 
"The  world  soon  wearies  of  denying  success  to 
men  of  your  mettle.  Forge  ahead.  You  will  win 
out  in  the  end.  I  am  ready  to  stand  by  you 
(Don't  forget  to  call  on  me  if  you  ever  need 
help.)  But  you  are  exactly  right;  we  never  ap- 
preciate the  things  that  cost  us  nothing." 

Then  the  conversation  drifted  into  less  im- 
portant channels. 

As  they  dashed  past  the  banker's  house,  Jerome 
caught  a  glimpse  of  Maxine  through  the  window. 
She  nodded  in  recognition,  and  he  returned  it 
with  a  wave  of  his  hand.  Major  Graves  feigned 
to  see  nothing,  while  making  a  careful  mental 
memorandum  of  it  all. 

In  due  time,  the  train  left  Ansonville  with 
Major  Graves  among  its  passengers.  He  had, 
as  he  had  anticipated,  found  no  opportunity  to 
hold  an  interview  with  Maxine.  So  he  employed 
his  time,  as  the  train  sped  Northward,  in  writing 
her  the  result  of  his  embassy. 

Meantime,  Jerome  had  sought  the  banker's 
house.  Maxine,  herself,  came  to  the  door  and 
graciously  ushered  him  in. 

"Was  that  your  friend  I  saw  with  you  in  the 
sleigh?"  she  queried  innocently,  when  they  were 
seated  in  the  parlor. 

"Yes,"  he  answered  quickly,  scrutinizing  her 
face,  "And  he  offered  to  educate  me.  What  do 
you  think  of  that?" 


io6  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 


V 


l(Why,  I  think  it's  lovely  of  him — and  of  course 
you  will  accept,"  she  cried,  beaming  upon  him. 

"No,  I  shall  not." 

"Why?" 

"Because  I  prefer  to  make  my  own  way — ^to 
blaze  my  own  trail  through  the  mental  woods. 
In  that  case,  I  shall  be  less  likely  to  lose  my  bear- 
ings." 

"Ah!  How  noble,"  she  cried,  admiringly.  "I 
should  have  expected  it  of  you.  Pardon  me, 
there  is  just  a  grain. of  distrust  in  my  disposition. 
I  can  scarcely  believe,  for  instance,  that  a  man — 
an  ambitious  young  man — will  not  take  the  first 
car  of  opportunity" — 

"Especially  when  there's  a  woman — a  pretty 
young  woman — at  the  other  end  of  the  line,"  he 
flashed  back, 

"You  impudent  fellow — as  if  I  were  a  dip- 
loma," she  exclaimed;  "As  if  I  were  to  be  con- 
sidered in  the  matter  at  all."  She  rested  her  rosy 
cheeks  in  her  shapely  white  hands  and  gazed  up 
at  him,  a  perfect  picture  of  maddening  loveliness. 

"To  be  considered  in  the  matter  at  all?"  he 
echoed,  his  voice  trembling  with  tenderness. 
"You  are  the  soul  of  all  things  in  which  I  am  in- 
terested. I  would  despise  an  enterprise  which 
precluded  your  presence  as  a  guardian  angel. 
And  tell  me,"  he  continued  earnestly,  "What  you 
know  about  the  gentleman — about  Major  Graves 
— who  saved  our  estate?  Somehow  I  have  an 
idea  that  you  know  him." 

Maxine  trembled  slightly  and  lost  color. 
"What  I — know  about  him  ?"  she  stammered  with 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  107 

evident  confusion.  "Why,  what  should  I  know 
about  him?" 

"Didn't  you  write  him  to  come  down  here?" 
he  asked,  tentatively,  studying  the  effect  of  his 
question  upon  her  face.  Little  by  little,  he  had 
reached  that  conclusion,  having  exhausted  every 
other  hypothesis  in  orderly  procession. 

"Why  do  you  ask  such  a  question?"  she  said, 
evasively. 

"Because  you  are  the  only  one  in  Ansonville 
who  would  be  likely  to  take  that  much  interest 
in  us,  and  none  of  our  neighbors  have  acquaint- 
ance abroad.  Major  Graves  would  hardly  have 
come  here  just  at  the  time  he  did,  unless  someone 
had  advised  him." 

"Such  things  have  happened,"  she  replied,  re- 
covering her  composure.  "Do  you  not  believe  in 
special  providences  ?" 

"Yes.  In  very  special  ones,  when  women  take 
things  in  hand — Providences  in  which  things  are 
always  provided  for  satisfactorily.  Now,  own 
up.     Didn't  you  write  Major  Graves  to  come?" 

"And  what  if  I  did?"  she  retorted,  having 
sought  her  last  subterfuge. 

"Nothing,  except  that  you  are  the  sweetest 
and  prettiest  and  best  little  girl  on  earth,"  he 
cried  passionately ;  "and  that  I  love  you  better 
than  I  love  anyone  on  earth." 

His  dark  eyes  scanned  her  face  eagerly  for  the 
least  sign  of  reciprocated  affection,  but  they 
sought  in  vain.  A  marble  statue  could  not  have 
been  more  impassive,  more  immobile.  He  never 
knew  till  long  afterwards  how  her  heart  throbbed 


io8  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

that  day,  and  what  her  feigned  indijEference  cost 
her. 

"Have  you  no  heart?"  he  cried  impatiently, 
"No  word  of  encouragement  for  me?"  He  drew 
back  and  contemplated  her,  misery  and  anger 
strugghng  with  the  mastering  love  in  his  face. 

"There  is  one  more  worthy  of  you  than  I,"  she 
answered  slowly,  almost  sadly.  "She  has  suf- 
fered more  for  you  than  I  can  suffer.  She  loves 
you  better  than  I  can  love  you,  because  she  knows 
that  she  loves  you  hopelessly.  She  deserves  the 
praise — for  saving  your  father's  estate.  Shall  I 
— is  it  necessary  for  me  to — call  her  name  ?  Ah ! 
I  see  that  you  know  of  whom  I  speak" — 

"Is  it  Marjorie?  Can  a  lily  spring  from  such 
soil?" 

"Yes,  it  is  Marjorie,"  she  answered,  with  a 
little  sigh ;  "And  she  would  give  her  life  for  one 
crumb  of  the  love  you  have  offered  me." 

"Poor  little  thing,  Poor  little  thing,"  he  said 
pityingly.  "She  is  worthy  of  a  good  man's  love 
— Yes,  she  is  worthy,  a  thousand  times  worthy — • 
but  one  cannot  change  the  decrees  of  one's  heart. 
They  are  like  the  laws  of  the  Medes  and  Per- 
sians. And  I  am  bound  to  love  you  for  life  and 
death." 

He  drew  nearer  to  her,  his  strong  face  match- 
ing the  strength  of  her  own.  His  hands  clasped 
her  slender  wrist  and  sought  to  pull  her  gently 
toward  him. 

"Stop!"  she  pleaded,  struggling  in  his  strong 
grasp.  "Not  yet.  It  is  no  time  for  sentiment 
when  one's  dreams  of  greatness  grow  bright. 
The  heart  can  wait  the  bidding  of  the  mind.    Per- 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  109 

haps  that  is  always  best.    At  any  rate,  the  affairs 
of  the  heart  should  be  subservient." 

"As  I  was  going  to  tell  you  about  Marjorie," 
she  hastened  to  interpose,  before  he  could  speak, 
"She  wrote  me  of  your  distress,  beseeching  me  to 
save  Riverv/ood.  I  did  what  I  could;  it  was  lit- 
tle enough.  I  did  not  mean  for  you  to  know  it, 
but  since  you  have  already  guessed  my  secret, 
there  is  nothing  to  conceal.  You  must  be  a  mind- 
reader." 

"Oh !  that  I  were  a  heart-reader,"  he  sighed. 

"I  meant,  I  meant,"  she  concluded,  in  a  falter- 
ing voice,  "to  do  all  in  my  power  to  give  you 
your  chance  in  life.  You  won't  despise  me  for 
it,  will  you?" 

"Will  I!"  he  cried,  with  threatening  laughter 
in  his  eyes,  "Oh,  no,  T  reckon  not.  But  you  don't 
know  what  a  temptation  Major  Graves'  offer 
was.  I  stood  on  an  exceeding  high  mountain,  I 
saw  the  kingdom  of  a  heart." 

"The  kingdom  of  a  heart,"  she  exclaimed,  with 
mock  satire ;  "hearts  have  no  kings ;  they  serve 
whom  they  choose.  They  are  republics.  They 
have  the  right  to  say  who  and  what  their 
executives  shall  be." 

"Then  I  shall  vote  at  my  own  election,"  he 
said  merrily  as  he  rose  to  go.  "And  having  re- 
ceived a  majority  of  two,  shall  forthwith  declare 
myself  duly  elected." 

"But,  in  case  of  a  tie,"  she  suggested  smiling, 
so  divinely  that  her  teeth  gleamed  like  rows  of 
pearls,  "Who'll  cast  the  deciding  vote?" 

"The  clergyman,"  he  laughed. 

A  warmth  of  color  reddened  her  fair  cheeks; 


no  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

loveliness  and  lingering  beauty  sparkled  in  her 
blue  eyes.  Visions  of  far-off  days  rose  up  in 
mist  of  silver  and  dust  of  gold  before  her  yearn- 
ing gaze.  For  a  whirling  moment,  all  the  splendor 
of  love  was  in  her  face — brilliant,  beautiful, 
dreamy,  as  far-flung  pulsings  of  twilight  melody. 

"Ah!"  she  said  at  length,  in  a  half-whisper, 
relaxing  the  tender  clasp  of  her  white  fingers 
upon  the  hand  he  had  extended  in  farewell. 
"Thou  art  drunk  with  the  wine  of  wit."  She 
knew,  even  when  she  said  it,  that  he  had  read  the 
tell-tale  tokens  in  her  face.  And  no  Belshazzar's 
fate  at  that.  She  knew  that  he  had  seen  the 
earnest  of  ultimate  victory. 

He  made  no  reply ;  his  heart  was  too  full  of 
joy;  the  rhapsody  of  silence  was  sweet  to  his 
soul.  Out  over  the  glistening  leagues,  he  rode 
back  to  Riverwood ;  past  sombre,  snow-sheathed 
pines;  past  the  white  horns  of  hillocks;  past  the 
broad  clearings,  where  deep  stains  of  ruby 
marked  the  death  rays  of  the  sun — yea,  out  into 
the  throbbing  tide  of  new-born  hope,  he  rode 
right  merrily. 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  hi 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

A  DISTURBED  DOCTOR. 

The  appearance  of  Major  Graves  had  been  like 
a  horrid  nightmare  to  Dr.  Allen.  It  had  sent  him 
perspiring  and  palpitating  from  the  scene  of  the 
sale.  Through  the  long  hours  of  the  night,  his 
heart  had  been  the  romping-ground  of  reveling 
demons  of  fear.  Had  the  Northerner  recognized 
him  as  he,  despite  the  long  years,  had  recognized 
the  Northerner  ?  Would  the  mask  finally  be  torn 
off  to  present  him  in  his  true  character  to  the 
confiding  residents  along  the  Pee  Dee  ?  He  must 
do  something,  and  that  quickly.  He  must  cement 
the  bonds  which  already  linked  him  loosely  to 
J\lr.  MacDonald.  Firmly  bound  in  business  in- 
terests to  such  a  shrewd  and  successful  financier 
as  the  banker  had  shown  himself  to  be,  the  Doctor 
could  snap  his  finger  at  the  old  skeleton  which 
had  so  suddenly  rattled  out  of  his  closet. 

Accordingly,  the  Doctor  ordered  horse  and 
sleigh,  and  accompanied  by  Gabriel,  set  out  for 
Ansonville  on  the  very  afternoon  that  Jerome 
was  returning  to  Riverwood.  As  Jerome  was 
sweeping  swiftly  along  the  road  about  half-way 
between  Ansonville  and  Riverwood,  he  caught 
sight  of  an  approaching  sleigh — a  bobbing,  black 
object  whose  occupants  were  half -hidden  by  the 


112  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

climbing  horse — far  down  near  the  foot  of  a 
hill.  In  a  few  moments  he  saw  that  they  would 
pass  each  other  midway  the  slope.  It  being  the 
custom  for  incomers  to  have  the  right  of  way, 
Jerome  turned  from  the  road.  He  soon  saw  that 
the  occupants  of  the  sleigh  were  Gabriel  and  Dr, 
Allen.  He  also  noted  that  they  were  bending  to- 
ward each  other  as  if  whispering  or  conversing 
in  low  tones.  Suspecting  that  they  were  plotting 
to  do  him  some  bodily  harm,  he  held  his  whip 
ready  to  defend  himself. 

"Heigh!  You  young  cus,  why  don't  you  give 
us  more  margin?"  shouted  Doctor  Allen  as  they 
drew  alongside.  "You're  still  trying  to  take  the 
earth,  I  see!" 

"Yes,  but  I  haven't  got  down  to  robbing  the 
dead  yet,"  retorted  Jerome,  his  face  whitening 
with  anger.  "I  have  recently  learned  that  was 
your  former  occupation.  Therefore,  I  can  easily 
understand  why  you  have  no  hesitancy  in  robbing 
the  living." 

Doctor  Allen's  face  became  purple  with  fear 
and  passion.  His  shifty  eyes  widened,  then 
snapped  fiery  red  like  the  eyes  of  a  mad-dog. 
His  side-whiskers  bristled.  "Repeat  that,  you 
contemptible  little  imp,  and  we'll" — the  Doctor 
glanced  at  Gabriel — "thrash  the  impudence  out 
of  you." 

"It  is  true  and  you  know  it,"  said  Jerome 
firmly.  "You  once  tried  to  rob  Major  Graves 
and  my  father  frightened  you  oflf.  Why  did  you 
leave  so  suddenly  on  the  day  of  the  sale?  You 
pro  mnny  ve?.r'?  my  senior,  but  your  record  for- 
feits for  you  all  respect  and  reverence.    You  are 


The  Girdle  OF  THE  Great  113 

two  to  one,"  he  cried,  raising  the  long  heavy 
whip,  "But  I  defy  you  to  touch  me !" 

The  Doctor  and  Gabriel  were  both  at  white 
heat.  Quickly  leaving  their  sleigh,  they  rushed 
towards  Jerome,  the  Doctor  to  the  rear  and  Ga- 
briel to  the  front.  With  a  swift  crack,  the  long 
lash  leaped  out  and  caught  Gabriel  a  blinding  cut 
across  the  eyes  which  sent  him  stumbling  aim- 
lessly in  the  snow.  The  same  blow  served  to 
frighten  the  Doctor's  horse;  and  instead  of 
clutching  at  Jerome's  back  as  he  had  intended, 
the  little  man  sprinted  through  the  snow  after 
the  fleeing  horse.  Gabriel,  too,  as  soon  as  he 
could  recover  from  his  shock,  joined  in  the  chase. 
Owing  to  the  difficulty  of  running  up  a  snow- 
covered  hill,  the  horse  soon  stopped,  and  the 
twain,  blowing  and  well-nigh  breathless,  re-en- 
tered the  sleigh  and  continued  their  journey, 
while  Jerome,  laughing  heartily  at  the  surprising 
turn  of  affairs,  drove  on  to  Riverwood  without 
further  incident. 


When  they  reached  Ansonville,  Dr.  Allen  went 
at  once  to  the  bank  and  sought  an  interview  with 
Mr.  MacDonald. 

"I  tell  you,  Mr.  MacDonald,"  he  said  with  a 
downward  sweep  of  his  hand,  "That  unless  we 
protect  our  interests  against  that  Yankee,  he  is 
going  to  clean  us  up,  lock,  stock  and  barrel.  In 
my  opinion — the  Doctor's  tone  became  low  and 
confidential — "He  is  nosing  around  for  gold." 
(Mr.  MacDonald  was  instantly  interested.) 
"And  we  have  got  to  combine  against  him  or  be 
drawn  into  his  drag-net." 


114  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  the  banl^^r,  avariciously  rub- 
bing his  hands  together  as  if  sifting  gold-bearing 
sand,  "We  must  look  into  that.  But,  my  dear 
Doctor,  we  must  not  forget  that  we  ourselves  are 
foreigners ;  that  is  to  say,  we  are  not  natives  of 
the  State." 

"And  for  that  reason,"  whispered  the  Doctor, 
drawing  still  nearer,  "We  should  work  this  ter- 
ritory for  all  it  is  worth.  We  should  cast  our 
hooks  for  suckers.  We  will  never  be  profited  by 
pulling  against  each  other.  Let's  join  hands. 
We  can  control  this  section.  And  in  my  opinion, 
it's  rich  as  Croesus — a  veritable  El  Dorado." 

The  banker's  small  eyes  glittered  greedily.  The 
Doctor  was  the  only  man  he  had  really  feared. 
Now  the  opportunity  to  tie  him  hard  and  fast 
was  at  hand. 

"Ah,  well,  we'll  look  into  that,"  he  said  uncon- 
cernedly, leaning  far  back  in  his  chair,  his  eyes 
half-closed,  "What  is  your — er — proposition?" 

"Simply  this :  That  we  form  a  co-partnership 
for  the  purchase  and  sale  of  real  estate." 

"A  good  suggestion,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Mac- 
Donald  tersely,  "We'll  have  the  papers  drawn  up 
at  once." 

The  shrewd  banker's  eyes  contracted  still  more. 
The  gleam  which  shot  through  his  half-closed 
lids  was  the  cunning  fire  of  a  fox's  eyes. 

"What  requirement  must  we  fulfill?"  queried 
the  Doctor,  not  without  his  own  crafty  expres- 
sion. "Must  we  put  up  any  money,  or  can  we 
arrange  to  deal  as  brokers?" 

"Our  principal  gains  should  come  from  shrewd 
purchases  and  speedy  sales,"  replied  Mr.  Mac- 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  115 

Donald.  "For  this  reason  it  is  necessary  for  us 
to  be  something  more  than  mere  real-estate 
brokers.  Capital  stock — paid-up  capital  stock — is 
therefore  absolutely  essential."  The  banker  spoke 
like  a  man  thoroug-hly  familiar  with  all  the  de- 
tails of  such  a  business. 

"And  that  Brandon  Place,"  said  the  Doctor  at 
length,  studying  the  banker's  ruddy,  clean-shaven 
face  as  though  it  were  a  map,  "What  are  you 
going  to  do  about  that?     Old  Watkins  has  the 
drop  on  you  in  the  matter  of  the  title,  but  there 
is  more  than  one  way  to  jump  a  claim." 
"What  do  you  mean?" 
"That  deeds  are  not  imperishable." 
"Well,  we  will  leave  that  for  the  present,"  sug- 
gested the  banker  shrewdly,  "and  get  our  other 
matters  with  reference  to  the  co-partnership  in 
good  business  shape." 

In  a  short  while  the  co-partnership  had  legally 
materialized  and  the  banker  and  the  Doctor  sat 
down  together  to  play  a  shrewd  game  of  finan- 
ciering, each  alert  and  watchful  for  the  master- 
stroke. 


Gabriel  had  sufficiently  recovered  the  use  of 
his  eyes  to  see  his  way  to  the  banker's  house. 
He  only  wished  that  he  could  see  his  way  half  as 
clearly  to  Maxine's  heart.  Nevertheless,  he  was 
surprised  at  the  almost  cordial  greeting  which 
she  gave  him.  He  was  far  too  superficial  in  such 
matters  to  see  that  a  victor  can  afford  to  be 
generous.  It  had  never  occurred  to  him,  for  in- 
stance, that  she  was  thoughtful  enough  to  arrange 
a  deliverance  such  as  had  befallen  the  Watkinses. 


Ii6  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

He  attributed  that  to  some  Devil  with  whom  he 
was  not  in  league. 

"Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  your  eyes,  Mr. 
Allen?"  she  asked  suddenly,  as  he  leaned  eagerly 
forward  to  ask  some  question. 

"Oh,  nothing,"  he  replied,  "Just  a  trifling  ac- 
cident. "I  had  the  misfortune  to  come  in  con- 
tact with  a  crazy  brute.  I  passed  Jerome  Watkins 
on  the  road.  He  fell  upon  me  without  warning. 
Only  a  coward  would  do  that." 

Gabriel  ceased  speaking  and  regarded  her  with 
an  expression  of  wounded  pride. 

"Are  you  quite  sure  that  you  gave  him  no  cause 
for  such  conduct?"  she  asked. 

"That  I  am.  I  didn't  say  a  single  word  to 
him.  Nor  did  I  strike  him  in  return,"  he  added 
significantly.  There  was  a  decidedly  pathetic 
plea  in  his  voice.  He  was  shrewd  enough  to 
know  that  a  woman's  sympathy  is  her  weakest 
point.  Having  failed  to  win  his  case  by  other 
means,  he  sought  now  to  pose  as  a  martyr.  He 
chuckled  inwardly  at  the  expression  of  sympathy 
(he  really  thought  it  that)  which  instantly  ap- 
peared on  her  face.  He  felt  that  he  was  slowly, 
but  surely,  occupying  the  citadel  of  her  affections. 
"Ah!"  he  congratulated  himself,  as  the  old  yearn- 
ing for  riches  which  ever  ran  in  his  blood — for 
riches,  by  the  foulest  means,  if  necessary — rose 
up  with  the  serpent's  soft  voice,  "That  Brandon 
place  shall  be  mine  after  all — Mine!"  He  dug 
his  nails  into  his  palms. 

"I  have  never  believed  in  oppression,"  she  said, 
finally. 

Gabriel  was  almost  sure  that  she  meant  no  re- 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  117 

flection  upon  him ;  and  that  she  spoke  out  of  the 
fullness  of  sympathy  for  him.  His  moon-shaped 
face  now  bore  every  mark  of  martyrdom. 

*''I  knew  you  would  see  that  I  was  in  the  right," 
he  exclaimed,  his  voice  sinking  to  a  minor  note,  a 
buoyant  gleam  in  his  blue  eyes,  "and  that  you 
would  be  honest  enough  to  say  so.  And  I'll  tell 
you,  Maxine,"  he  ran  on,  "that  fellow  Watkins 
is  the  biggest  hypocrite  on  earth.  He  has  been 
trying  to  fool  you  all  along.  Just  like  he  fooled 
that  poor  little  Marsden  girl,  across  the  river. 
Beware  of  him.  His  sanctimonious  dignity  is 
but  a  mask.  You  think  I  am  bad  (oh,  yes,  you 
do),  but  the  difference  between  Jerome  Watkins 
and  myself  is  the  difference  between  night  and 
day"— 

"In  that  you  are  right,"  she  broke  in.  "Your 
characters  are  utterly  dissimilar — as  much  so  as 
night  and  day."  She  regarded  Gabriel  with  an 
analytical  attitude,  which  for  some  reason,  he 
thought,  to  be  ardent  admiration.  The  blood 
surged  to  his  face  till  his  temples  throbbed,  and 
his  heart  swam  with  ecstatic  melody — the  drum 
beat  of  dreams. 

"How  good  of  you  to  say  so,"  he  cried  joy- 
fully, "And  you  don't  think  I  am  bad"f 

"No." 

"Glorious !"  he  exclaimed,  suddenly  diving  for 
her  hand,  "My  happiness  is  finished." 

"I  do  not  think  you  are  bad,  Gabriel,"  she  said 
slowly,  "I  knoiv  it." 

The  barometer  in  his  heart  suddenly  tumbled 
to  zero. 

"Then  you  shall  have  cause  for  your  knowl- 


Ii8  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

edge,"  he  retorted;  "I  will  make  you  sorry  that 
you  ever  lived.  Jerome  Watkins  shall  never  en- 
ter college,  nor  call  you  his  wife." 

He  arose,  quickly,  and  with  angry  mutterings, 
stamped  out  into  the  street,  crushing  the  soft 
snow  beneath  his  heavy  boots  as  if  he  were  a 
conquering  demon,  and  it  were  an  angel's  heart 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  119 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE  SILENT  STRUGGLE. 

Major  Graves'  letter  came  duly  to  Mr.  Mac- 
Donald's  hands  for  the  reason  that  all  Maxine's 
letters  passed  through  that  icy  channel,  the 
banker  esteeming  it  an  essential  part  and  prerog- 
ative of  guardianship  to  exercise  this  espionage 
upon  his  ward's  correspondence. 

For  some  reason — perhaps  because  it  bore  the 
railway  postmark — Mr.  MacDonald  carefully 
(he  regretted  that  he  could  not  do  it  coldly) 
heated  a  small,  thin  paper-knife  and  inserted  it 
beneath  the  sealed  side  of  the  envelope.  Then 
he  removed  the  letter,  softly  drew  down  his  win- 
dow-shades, and,  lighting  a  tiny  brass  lamp, 
slowly  read  the  Major's  message. 

"Um-ah,"  he  exclaimed  at  length,  pressing  his 
long  white  fangs  upon  his  lower  lip,  "I  thought 
so.  I'm  not  much  of  a  believer  in  miracles.  I 
knew  the  girl  had  a  hand  in  it.  In  love  with  that 
lanky,  bankrupt  Watkins  boy,  eh?  I  must  look 
into  that  matter.  With  us  MacDonald's  money 
must  marry  money" — he  chuckled  and  clenched 
his  fist — "when  it  marries  at  all." 

Then  he  carefully  replaced  the  letter,  and  re- 
sealed  the  envelope  so  perfectly  that  only  an  ex- 
pert could  have  told  that  it  had  been  tampered 


120  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

with.  Mr.  MacDonald  had  long  studied  the  art 
of  covering  up  his  tracks,  and  prided  himself 
upon  his  cunning. 

Suddenly  the  clink  of  silver  reached  his  ear, 
and  he  smiled  gloatingly.  It  was  the  voice  of  his 
sheep. 

He  loved  to  hear  them  come  tinkling  home 
from  the  pastures.  He  loved  to  see  the  pale 
cashier  herd  them  in  shining  heaps. 

He  arose,  opened  his  private  door,  and  went 
into  the  bank-enclosure.  Sinking  into  a  chair,  he 
sat  studying  the  cashier's  face  while  he  bent  over 
a  book.  It  was  an  honest  face,  clear  cut,  con- 
scientious. The  mouth  was  firm.  There  was  no 
shifty  light  in  the  deep-set  eyes ;  it  gleamed 
steady  and  clear  upon  the  ledger,  revealing  only 
what  was  right  and  fair.  It  dawned  upon  Mr. 
MacDonald,  as  he  sat  watching  the  cashier,  that 
he  was  not  the  man  for  his  future  necessity. 

"I  must  discharge  that  incompetent,"  thought 
the  banker,  seeking  to  compromise  with  his  con- 
science, "and  install  Gabriel  Allen.  It  is  a  part 
of  my  program" — he  smacked  his  lips  as  if  he 
had  just  eaten  a  broiled  squab — "an  essential  part 
of  my  program." 

Next  day,  being  the  last  of  the  month  and  the 
end  of  the  year,  the  cashier  was  discharged  on 
the  ground  of  incompetency.  The  poor  fellow 
had  a  large  family  dependent  upon  him  and  was 
reduced  almost  to  the  point  of  despair,  but  Mr. 
MacDonald  had  said  "Business  was  Business/* 
and  he  was  forced  to  go. 

Gabriel,  who  had  given  up  his  course  at  col- 
lege, was  duly  installed  as  Cashier.    Despite  the 


The  Girdle  of  the  Greait  tit 

Constant  miscarriage  of  his  plans,  he  entered  the 
bank  with  a  decided  thrill  of  triumph.  With  the 
shrewd  banker  on  his  side,  he  would  ultimately 
win  Maxine. 

Having  made  that  conquest,  his  happiness 
would  be  complete.  Not  the  least  enjoyable  of 
victories,  however  great,  would  be  the  defeat  of 
his  hated  rival,  Jerome  Watkins. 

The  Doctor's  heart,  too,  was  athrob  with  new- 
born hope.  He  would  tighten  his  clutches  upon 
the  banker  and  slowly  draw  him  in.  A  little  bait 
was  all  that  remained  needful. 

The  Doctor,  therefore,  soon  made  an  unusually 
large  deposit,  at  which  the  banker  smiled  broadly, 
benignly. 

One  morning,  shortly  after  Gabriel  had  taken 
charge,  Mr.  MacDonald  called  Maxine  into  his 
study  and  indicated  a  chair  near  his  side. 

"Sit  down  a  moment,  Maxy,  dear,"  he  said 
cordially,  "I  have  something  to  say  to  you." 
She  silently  obeyed.  "You  must  be  quite  lonely 
here,"  he  ran  on  suavely,  "and  company — good 
company — would  be  very  desirable,  very  delight- 
ful. I  should  not  be  willing,  however,  for  cer- 
tain young  men  to  call.  For  instance,  I  should 
very  seriously  object  to — um — at — Jerome  Wat- 
kins. 

"But  I  have  learned  that  my  cashier,  Gabriel 
Allen,  has  most  admirable  traits.  He  has  the 
most  decided  talent  for  money  mak" — 

"But,  Uncle,  you  surely  don't  mean  to  suggest 
that  I  should  encourage  Gabriel  Allen?"  She 
raised  her  gold-penciled  brows  in  utter  astonish- 
ment. 


122  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

"That  is  precisely  what  I  mean,"  he  snapped. 

"Then  I  cannot  comply  with  your  request,"  she 
said  firmly. 

"Why?" 

"Because  I  do  not  fancy  him." 

"Fancy,  fiddlesticks !"  cried  the  banker  in  a  de- 
cided tone  of  displeasure.  "What  is  a  woman's 
fancy?  A  woman's  sentiment.  'Tis  nonsense — 
a  fragile  rose — a  pretty,  puny  flower  that  fades 
and  leaves  a  thorn  of  temper. 

"You've  got  good  property,"  he  continued, 
"but  you  need  more.  Why,  old  Doctor  Allen's 
one  of  the  richest  landholders  in  the  county. 
iMarry  Gabriel,  and  your  fortune  is  assured. 

"A  dollar,  little  girl,  a  dollar  (and  the  banker 
affectionately  tightened  his  fingers  on  a  silver 
piece  in  his  pocket)  is  always  one's  best  friend. 
It  never  goes  back  on  you.  Your  folks  may  deny 
you,  but  a  dollar — never.  Money  is  the  principal 
thing,  therefore  get  money,  and  with  all  your 
getting,  get  money."  The  banker  was  silent  a 
moment  as  if  tasting  the  delightful  relish  of  his 
paraphrase. 

"I  wouldn't  advise  you  to  take  a  false  step, 
Maxy,"  he  continued.  "You're  my  only  brother's 
only  child.  Moreover,  you  are  my  nearest  living 
relation — my  natural  heir.  And  I  am  not  a  poor 
man,  Maxy. 

"I  would  regret  exceedingly  to  disinherit  you. 
Jerome  Watkins  (I  might  as  well  speak  plainly) 
is  so  repulsive  to  me  that  he  shall  not  visit  my 
house.  But  be  careful  to  show  Gabriel  Allen  the 
utmost  courtesy.     Try  to  love  him  for  money's 


ISiE  Girdle  of  the  Greatp  1^3 

sake.  A  slight  to  him  shall  be  considered  a  slight 
to  me.    Am  I  quite  clear  ?" 

"Quite  clear,  Uncle,"  she  replied.  "I  shall  try 
to  treat  all  your  guests  with  courtesy  and  re- 
spect— 'till  they  forfeit  the  right  to  such  treat- 
ment. But  as  for  my  affections — even  though 
they  be  fragile  as  roses — why,  they  are  my  own 
to  give  and  refuse." 

A  bright  red  spot — a  torch  of  battle — burned 
either  of  her  fair  cheeks  into  flaming  color. 

And  suddenly  recalling  that  her  mother  had 
been,  when  fully  aroused,  a  matchless  mistress  of 
tongue  play,  the  banker  wisely  dismissed  Maxine 
from  his  presence. 

"Oh,  well,  just  treat  Gabriel  respectfully  for 
my  sake,  Maxy,"  he  called  conciliatingly  as  she 
closed  the  door. 

"Alright,  sir,  for  your  sake,"  she  replied. 

Maxine  went  immediately  to  her  room.  The 
interview  with  her  uncle  had  really  impressed 
her  more  forcibly  than  she  dared  to  betray. 

All  her  property  was  in  the  banker's  hands,  and 
there  were  always  legal  loop-holes  through  which 
the  cunning  financial  fox  might  leap  when  hard 
pressed.  She  was  neither  purse-proud  nor 
penurious,  but  she  could  no  more  help  being  her 
father's  daughter  than  he  could  help  being  his 
father's  son.  The  thought  of  being  disinherited 
by  th^  man  who  held  all  of  her  property  was  de- 
cidedly unpleasant.  The  elder  MacDonald — her 
father — would  have  found  it  so.  Money  seemed 
a  useless  encumbrance  till  it  was  on  the  point  of 
taking  its  leave.  Then  it  seemed  at  least  a  neceS' 
sary  evil. 


t24  'I'he  Girdle  of  the  GREAt 

None  of  the  MacDonalds  had  ever  bade  a  shin- 
i'lsr.  orround-faced  dollar  good-bye  without  the 
sharpest  sting  of  regret. 

But,  on  the  other  nand,  rose  the  heritage  of  the 
Edinburgh  Scholar,  and  the  learning  of  her  fore- 
bears towards  aestheticism.  Somehow  in  the  con- 
flict, which  rose  spontaneously  in  her  soul,  these 
latter  stood  together  allied  against  the  avarice 
with  which  neither  of  them  possessed  in  common. 

On  rushed  the  hostile  forces,  the  cannon-wheels 
of  Commercialism  grinding  into  the  soft  soil  of 
sentiment;  the  recruits  of  Aestheticism  led  by  the 
burning  light  of  the  Ancient  Scholar.  There  in 
her  heart  they  gripped  and  clung  and  fought  hand 
in  hand.  Now  the  shining  lances  of  Commer- 
cialism poised  and  pierced  and  drove  back  the 
allies. 

But  ever,  when  the  battle  seemed  lost  by  the 
allies,  the  light  of  the  Ancient  Scholar  would 
burst  through  the  blinding  blackness — a  beam  too 
bright  to  be  withstood,  burning  success  from  the 
grip  of  Defeat. 

Again  and  again  the  mailed  host  of  the  Money- 
King  rushed  to  the  front.  Again  and  again  they 
were  repulsed. 

The  battle  ground  reeled  and  rocked  beneath 
their  silvery  feet.  Like  Magic  they  recovered 
their  strength  and  returned  to  the  attack.  Here 
gleamed  the  golden  shield  of  Penuriousness ; 
there  a  diamond-hilted  dagger  of  shrewd  dealing. 
The  victory  seemed  theirs. 

They  were  strong  with  the  greed  of  the  genera- 
tions. From  miserly  old  Malcolm  MacDonald, 
clutching  his  sordid  siller  on  the  Scottish  high- 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  125 

land,  down  to  the  girl's  father,  they  were  a  host 
to  be  reckoned  with. 

In  one  point  only  was  the  line  broken ;  the  An- 
cient Scholar,  who  had  harked  back  somewhere 
(mayhap  to  some  studious  monk  with  whom  the 
bonds  of  marriage  had  been  stronger  than  the 
bans  of  church)  left  that  glaring  gap.  He,  too, 
was  to  be  reckoned  with.  And  the  man  who  has 
burned  out  his  life  for  an  ideal,  however  humble, 
leaves  no  easily  erasible  trace  in  his  blood. 

For  hours  Maxine  paced  her  floor  as  restless 
as  ever  a  lioness  walked  the  narrow  border  of  her 
cage.  Jerome  was  her  ideal.  Must  she  give  him 
up?  Must  she  sell  her  heart  for  a  price?  There 
were  things  above  the  price  of  rubies — honor, 
self-respect,  culture,  refinement. 

No,  she  would  be  free ;  she  would  have  these  at 
any  sacrifice.  She  loved  the  beautiful  in  life — 
she  loved  knowledge — and  these  should  be  her 
masters. 

In  the  strength  of  victory  she  paused  suddenly 
before  the  window  and  gazed  down  the  narrow, 
niggardly  street  to  where  stood  the  bank — 
solemn,  strong  and  sour — an  apotheosis  of  the 
banker's  ideal. 

The  light  in  her  eyes  was  clear,  splendid,  bright 
as  the  shafts  of  midday;  it  was  the  light  of  the 
Ancient  Scholar. 

Meantime  the  banker  had  said  to  Gabriel. 
"Everything'll  come  around  all  right,  Gabriel. 
You've  got  to  break  'em  in.  Of  course  I  don't 
know  how  to  do  it.  But  a  young  fellow  like  you 
oughtn't  to  have    much  trouble.     There  is    one 


126  The  Girdle  of  the  Great    . 

thing  certain :  you're  going  to  have  the  right  of 
way;  I've  forbidden  her  to  admit  Jerome  Wat- 
kins  in  my  house.  And  come  what  may,  my  will 
is  law — law,  sir,  even  in  love  affairs." 

A  twinkle  of  hope  shone  in  Gabriel's  eyes. 
"Old  MacDonald's  a  fool,  after  all,"  he  thought, 
"a  wise  old  fool.  He  knows  where  his  books  are 
buttered." 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  127 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 
"the  meeting   in   the  turpentine  orchard." 

Glorious  April  had  come.  Everywhere  the 
buds  were  burstiug,  scattering  snow  balls  amid 
the  emerald  trees.  A  dreamy,  hazy  blue  slept  in 
the  arching  sky. 

The  woods  rang  with  a  pulsing  passion  of  bird 
calls.  Incense  fit  for  the  altars  of  the  Gods  rose 
from  the  rich  brown  earth.  From  the  red  browed 
hills  to  the  great  river  running  tawny  to  the  sea, 
the  scenery  around  Riverwood  and  Rocky 
Heights  was  exquisitely  beautiful. 

On  a  hillside,  overlooking  the  river,  Jerome 
and  Old  Sam  were  plowing.  Fired  by  the  fever 
of  education,  Ben,  Old  Sam's  second  son,  had 
bundled  up  and  bustled  off  to  a  negro  industrial 
school. 

Thus  a  double  burden  came  to  Jerome's 
shoulders.  The  farm  work  had  to  be  done,  and 
in  his  straightened  circumstances  the  Colonel  was 
unable  to  employ  extra  labor. 

But  to  stoop  continually  to  this  tiresome  toil, 
Jerome,  too,  had  passed  through  a  silent  struggle, 
not  with  Commercialism,  but  with  the  passionate 
pride  which  had  been  in  the  blood  of  the  Wat- 
kinses  since  the  days  of  William  the  Conqueror. 

A  firm  believer  in  the  ideals  and  aspirations  of 


128  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

the  New  South,  loving  the  soil  of  his  native  State, 
thrilled  by  its  traditions  and  touched  by  the 
deep  pathos  of  its  dark  illiteracy,  he  was  never- 
theless appalled  by  the  menial  labor  to  which  he — 
a  representative  of  the  New  South — had  been  re- 
duced. Yet  he  recognized  that  this  was  the 
crucible  through  which  ambitious  youth  of  the 
New  South  must  needs  pass — the  crucible,  indeed, 
through  which  he  himself  had  chosen  to  pass. 
But,  however  strong  his  determination,  and  how- 
ever clearly  he  might  foresee  his  reward  in  the 
ultimate  issue,  there  was  still  in  his  constitution 
the  latent  germ  of  a  chivalry,  which  could 
scarcely  see  the  prancing  charger  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  and  the  shining  coach  of  the  old  regime, 
supplanted  by  a  trace-worn  plow-horse,  without  a 
pang  of  wounded  pride. 

Was  the  result  worth  the  effort?  Did  the 
mountains  appear  grander  because  one  had 
climbed  too  slowly  to  conceive  their  height  ?  Was 
it  necessary  for  the  young  eaglet  to  live  in  a  little 
barnyard  with  vaunting  fowls  in  order  to  acquire 
strength  of  wing? 

Jerome  could  no  more  have  accepted  his 
laborer's  lot  without  a  struggle  than  one  of  his 
forebears  could  have  ridden  a  mule  at  tourney 
without  swearing. 

The  love  of  the  soil — the  feudal  baron's  love — 
he  had  indeed.  That  was  deeply  implanted  in 
his  nature;  it  was  a  part  of  his  heritage. 

He  loved  the  virgin  beauty  of  the  land:  with 
childlike  joy  he  watched  it  blossom  into  harvest : 
he  was  awed  by  the  profound  mystery  of  the 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  129 

seasons  which  shrouded  it  into  snow  or  smiled  it 
into  warmth  and  beauty. 

But  hitherto  he  had  loved  and  watched  and 
been  awed  as  one  apart,  like  the  traveler  who 
gazes  wonder-eyed  upon  the  stupendous  structure 
of  Cheops,  or  the  geysers  hung  silver-spangled 
between  earth  and  sky — miracles  of  stone  and 
steam ;  henceforth  he  was  to  be  vitally  akin  to  the 
soil,  its  son  in  the  highest,  even  when  his  feet 
pressed  the  lowest  strata  ot  honest  labor.  There 
would  he  find  his  strength ;  there  would  he  come 
to  see  that  the  highest  type  of  citizenship  is  to  be 
found,  not  in  mental  monstrosity,  nor  in  the  per- 
fection of  brute  strength,  but  in  well-rounded 
manhood.  He  might  have  studied  text  books 
while  he  plowed — as  he  did  study  the  great  earth- 
book,  underscoring  it  with  his  plow — (noble  men 
- — the  primitive  giants — had  done  that) — but 
somehow  he  had  conscientious  scruples  on  that 
point.  He  held  that  a  man's  first  duty  was  to  the 
working  hand,  however  lowly;  that  the  flower 
of  his  strength  should  be  given  to  his  avocation, 
however  humble.  In  his  opinion,  no  man  had 
ever  studied  astronomy  and  at  the  same  time  run 
a  straight  furrow.  His  idea  of  labor  was  an 
X-Ray ;  a  consuming  concentration. 

In  other  words,  he  was  a  firm  believer  in  the 
maxim  that  whatever  was  worth  doing  was  worth 
doing  well. 

He  ploughed  in  the  day  and  studied  at  night. 

Now  and  then  as  he  plowed  this  day  his  eyes, 
when  he  stopped  at  the  end  of  the  furrows,  would 
travel  to  the  great  river  rushing  far  below  like  a 
restless  vein  of  life.     It  always  seemed  to  him 


130  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

typical  of  the  New  South— a  giant  unharnessed 
— a  quivering,  throbbing  thing  that  had  never 
known  its  power.  In  fancy,  he  could  see  the  river 
harnessed  to  a  thousand  mill  wheels,  and  catch 
the  lurid  glow  of  electric  lights  along  its  path. 

"Some  day  it  will  happen,"  he  suddenly  said 
aloud.  "And  some  day  the  South  will  be  busy 
like  the  North." 

"What  did  you  say,  my  son?" 

Jerome  turned  quickly  to  see  his  father,  who 
had  approached  so  silently  that  he  had  not  per- 
ceived his  presence.  "I  was  just  thinking  aloud, 
father,"  he  replied  with  some  confusion. 

Col.  Watkins  pretended  not  to  notice  the  high 
color  in  Jerome's  face,  and  removing  a  letter 
from  his  pocket,  read  aloud  the  latest  naval  store 
report. 

"That  looks  like  there's  going  to  be  something 
in  turpentine,  my  son,"  he  said  at  length.  "I 
want  you  to  stop  plowing  to  take  charge  of  a 
squad  of  hands  in  the  new  orchard  to-morrow. 
Walter  can  take  your  place  here." 

"All  right,  sir,"  responded  Jerome.  "I  am 
ready  to  do  what  you  think  best." 

Next  day  Jerome  was  in  the  turpentine  or- 
chard. With  him  were  ten  negroes.  They  began 
the  work  of  hacking  and  pulling  boxes  cheerfully, 
industriously.  All  went  well  till  a  strange  negro 
made  his  advent  in  the  orchard.  He  asked  for 
employment.  It  was  given  him.  But  he  soon  be- 
came trifling,  and  began  to  stir  up  strife  among 
the  other  hands.  Jerome  discharged  him.  He 
left  the  orchard  with  a  muttered  threat  of  ven- 
geance. 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  131 

On  the  Saturday  morning  following  the  negro's 
dismissal,  Jerome  noticed  that  the  hands  were 
noiser  than  usual.  There  was  a  note  of  mad 
mirth  in  their  swelling  tones  as  they  sang  at  their 
work.  Being  anxious  to  finish  a  certain  territory 
before  paying  off  the  hands  in  afternoon,  he  had 
removed  his  coat,  and,  taking  a  hack,  had  gone 
on  in  advance  of  the  negroes,  thinking  to  inspire 
them  by  his  example.  Suddenly,  as  he  entered  a 
little  ravine,  he  came  upon  an  empty  whisky 
flask.     That  told  the  tale. 

With  a  start,  he  recalled  that  he  had  left  his 
pistol  in  his  coat  pocket.  He  turned  quickly  and 
walked  briskly  in  that  direction.  The  coat  was 
fully  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards  distant.  When 
he  was  within  about  thirty  yards  the  strange 
negro,  who  had  evidently  been  lying  in  wait, 
sprang  forward  and  grasped  the  coat.  There 
was  a  devilish  glitter  in  the  negro's  eyes ;  he  gave 
a  gutteral,  bush-man  like  cry  of  triumph  as  he 
removed  the  pistol. 

"Cum    on,    boys!"    he    cried,   flourishing  the 

weapon.    "We'se  gwineter  show  dis  d n  white 

man  who's  boss  in  dese  woods !" 

A  hoarse  murmur  of  approval  greeted  this  ex- 
clamation, and  several  negroes  rushed  forward 
to  join  the  bearer  of  the  pistol. 

Jerome  grasped  a  pine-knot,  which  lay  at  his 
feet  and  silently  assumed  the  defensive.  His 
face  was  like  stone  in  its  firmness.  Not  a  trace 
of  fear  was  discernible  in  his  attitude. 

On  came  the  negroes,  fired  by  unreasoning 
fury  of  liquor-heated  brains. 

Under  the  powerful  stimulant,  every  vestige  of 


132  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

civilization  was  forced  from  their  veins,  and  they 
harked  back  to  the  primitive — to  the  carousing 
craze  of  cannibals.  They  were  in  the  jungles 
again,  alert,  active,  snake-like. 

"Stand  back!"  cried  Jerome  sternly,  as  the 
first  one  rushed  near.  "Come  on!  Kill  him!" 
the  strange  negro  shouted  in  a  very  frenzy.  He 
aimed  and  fired  the  pistol,  but  the  ball  flew  wide 
of  the  mark.  As  he  drew  nearer,  Jerome  struck 
his  hand,  knocking  the  pistol  far  out  into  the 
bushes.  This  turn  of  affairs  slightly  confused  the 
others.  They  wavered  a  moment,  holding  back 
half-hesitatingly.  They  had  not  counted  on  the 
white  man's  courage. 

"Come  on."  cried  the  strange  negro,  produc- 
ing a  razor,  "  'an  'less  fix  him!" 

But  the  words  were  .scarcely  out  of  his  mouth 
when  Jerome  leaped  forward  and  struck  him  a 
blinding  blow  in  the  face,  doubling  him  up  on 
the  ground.  His  aim  was  to  disconcert  the  others 
so  as  to  gain  an  opportunity  to  recover  the  pistol. 
But  before  he  could  do  so  they  were  upon  him 
like  a  black  whirl-wind.  The  craze  of  liquor  had 
conquered  their  native  cowardice.  With  the  cool, 
calculating  courage  of  the  Anglo-Saxon,  he  de- 
fended himself,  striking  vigorously  right  and 
left.  A  powerful,  well-directed  blow  sent  a  big, 
burly  negro  to  the  ground ;  another,  equally  as 
timely,  broke  the  arm  of  a  tall,  thin  negro  who 
was  in  the  act  of  springing  at  Jerome's  throat 
with  a  razor. 

Strangely  enough,  these  mishaps  seemed  only 
to  infuriate  the  others,  and  they  redoubled  their 
efforts   to   get   Jerome    in  their  clutches.     The 


He  aimed  and  fired  tiie  pistol,  hut  tlie  ball  flew 
wide  of  the  mark.  ' 


Fariii/i-  fa^e  1S2 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  I33 

mania  of  murder  was  in  their  blood.  They  came 
on  like  mad-dogs.  An  active  young  negro,  who 
was  not  too  drunk  to  see  a  possible  advantage, 
swiftly  slipped  into  the  bushes,  and  silently  re- 
appearing behind  Jerome,  dealt  him  a  paralyzing 
blow  on  his  right  arm.  The  faithful  pine  knot 
fell  to  the  ground,  and  with  a  yell  of  fiendish  de- 
light the  foremost  negro,  armed  with  a  hack, 
leaped  toward  Jerome.  The  one  in  the  rear  had 
already   grasped   Jerome   around  the   waist.     A 

moment  more  and a  long  black  lash  leaped 

like  a  hissing  snake  into  the  negro's  face.  Fast 
and  furiously  it  swept  back  and  forth,  striking 
its  stinging  scourges,  cutting  the  flesh  at  every 
blow. 

"Back!  Back!  you  black  debbils!"  shrieked 
the  owner  of  the  scourge,  quickly  following  up 
his  mighty  strokes.  He  was  a  lean,  wizened  old 
man;  but  his  muscles  were  like  thongs  of  buck- 
skin ;  and  his  purpose  was  kingly. 

The  others  retreated  before  him  like  scourged 
hounds.  For  fifty  years  he  had  been  known  as 
"Old  Sampson  of  the  Pee  Dee,"  and  his  strength 
was  not  questioned  now.  The  spell  of  his  pres- 
ence sobered  them. 

"Git  out — crawl  out!"  he  thundered  to  the 
strange  negro,  who  had  sufficiently  recovered  to 
grasp  his  razor.  "Git  out,  I  say" — the  whip-lash 
popped  and  curled  like  a  stinging  worm  around 
the  negro's  neck — "yo  can't  shave  dis  nigger,  if 
you  does  live  on  de  Allen  place !"  The  disturber 
awaited  no  second  invitation.  He  scrambled  to 
his  feet  and  quickly  vanished  in  the  forest. 

"I  cum  arter  dat — load  uv  light  'd — des  in  time, 


134  The  Girdle  of  the  GREAf 

Marse  Romey,"  said  the  old  man.  beginning  .0 
show  signs  of  weakness  now  that  the  struggle 
was  'last.  "Oh,  Lawd — wat's  gwineter  becum  uv 
dese  niggers — strikin'  de  nan'  dat  gibs  um 
bread  ? 

"But  some  white  man  put  um  up  ter  dis  deb- 
blishness,  dat  he  did." 

Jerome  had  his  own  suspicions,  but  to  them  he 
made  no  reference.  He  warmly  thanked  Old  Sam 
for  coming  to  his  rescue. 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  13S 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE   METTLE  OF  A   MAN. 

The  affair  in  the  turpentine  orchard  did  not 
disconcert  Jerome;  it  did  not  swerve  him  from 
his  purpose.  He  had  long  known  the  flagrant  in- 
gratitude of  the  )'ounger  generation  of  negroes. 
And  it  was  therefore  no  surprise  to  him  that  sev- 
eral of  those  who  had  received  special  favors  at 
his  hands  had  turned  against  him.  He  saw  in 
the  mutiny  only  another  proof  of  the  negro's 
moral  depravity — a  depravity  exceeding  that  of 
the  Indian  whose  gratitude  for  favors  had  passed 
into  proverb.  And  yet,  serious  as  the  assault  had 
been,  he  could  not  lay  the  blame  wholly  at  their 
door.  He  knew  full  well  that,  like  numerous 
other  infractions  of  law  and  order,  this  one  had 
its  origin  in  the  cunning  brain  of  a  white  man. 
He  knew  full  well  that  the  negro  problem  would 
not  be  nearly  so  intricate,  but  infinitely  farther  on 
the  highway  to  solution,  if  the  white  man  who 
used  the  negro  as  a  political  and  private  tool 
would  step  down  and  out  and  give  the  wise  and 
thoughtful  and  conscientious  citizens  of  the 
South  a  chance  to  solve  it. 

Jerome  lost  no  time  in  securing  a  new  squad 
of  hands.  The  work  was  pushed  with  renewed 
energy.    The  price  of  spirits  turpentine  continued 


136  The  Girdle  of  the  Greai* 

high.  He  saw  in  that  his  opportunity  to  enter 
college.  And  he  had  determined  to  enter  college 
at  any  hazard.  His  father  had  insisted  on  em- 
ploying an  assistant  overseer.  Jerome  would  not 
hear  to  that,  replying  that  he  would  stay  there 
alone  if  all  the  negroes  in  North  Calolina  re- 
belled. But  the  last  ones  gave  him  no  trouble 
whatever ;  they  worked  willingly,  and  to  the  best 
advantage.  He  treated  them  kindly,  though 
firmly,  requiring  each  one  to  do  his  duty. 

Often  he  lent  his  own  hand  to  the  task,  dipping 
the  rich  resinous  substance  from  the  deep  boxes. 
With  bared  arms,  sun-tanned  and  corded  with 
muscles,  he  carried  the  heavy  bucket  from  tree  to 
tree.  The  fragrant  breath  of  the  great  forest 
was  in  his  nostrils.  Far  away  stretched  the 
filmy  blue  vistas,  broken  here  and  there  by  the 
snowy  flakes  of  scrope  upon  the  tall,  stately  trees. 
Beneath  his  feet  the  Brown  carpet  of  fallen  pine- 
needles  made  pleasing  contrast  with  the  emerald 
of  the  overhanging  branches.  Here  in  this  wide, 
wild  world  his  soul  marched  to  the  music  of  the 
pines.  So  magnificent  they  appeared,  towering 
above  all  else,  scorning  the  stunted  shrubs  of  the 
nether  forest.  And  yet  they  were  bleeding  out 
their  hearts  for  man — for  him — bleeding  that  he 
might  have  his  chance  in  life.  Far-fetched  as  it 
may  seem,  he  recalled  the  great  principle  of 
Atonement  in  Nature — the  suft'ering  of  the 
vegetable  and  animal  world  for  man — the  blood 
of  the  beast — the  blood  of  the  tree.  "What  is 
man  that  thou  art  mindful  of  him,  or  the  Son  of 
man  that  thou  visitest  him?"  The  question  of 
the  Psalmist  sprang  into  Jerome's  mind  again 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  137 

and  again.  And  he  would  answer  again  and 
again :  "He  is  immortal — he  is  greater  than 
beast  or  tree — he  is  greater  than  Nature — he  is 
greater  than  all  but  God."  Then  he  would  begin 
to  see  that  in  the  mighty  economy  of  the  Eternal 
everything  occupied  its  peculiar  place — every 
drop  of  water  its  place  in  the  ocean — every  peb- 
ble its  place  in  the  earth — every  tree  its  place  in 
the  forest.  Above  all  was  man ;  and  above  man 
was  mind ;  and  above  mind  was  soul ;  and  above 
soul  was  God — the  Primogeniture. 

Thus  did  Jerome  argue  as  he  went  about  his 
work  in  the  forest.  Hence  he  came  to  see  that 
nature  was  to  man  not  as  a  thing  apart,  but  part 
and  parcel  of  him,  a  helpmeet  without  whose 
counsel  he  would  be  a  blind  guide,  a  stumbler  in 
the  dark. 

The  Spring  days  hurried  by  with  chirrup  of 
birds  and  the  carol  of  larks  in  the  daisy-dappled 
meadows.  Spending  his  time  mostly  in  the  for- 
est, Jerome  saw  little  of  Maxine — then  only  for 
a  few  moments  when  business  took  him  to  An- 
sonville — but  his  love  for  her  grew  steadily  into 
a  consuming  passion,  pure  as  a  snow-drift. 
Without  her,  his  life  would  lose  its  day-star. 

One  morning,  as  he  was  supervising  some 
work  by  the  roadside,  a  sound  of  galloping  hoofs 
was  borne  to  his  ears.  It  came  from  the  direction 
of  Ansonville.  Suddenly  out  ot  the  volleying 
dust  leaped  a  pony  and  rider.  The  rider  was  a 
woman  and  her  long,  fair  hair,  having  become 
unclasped,  sprayed  wildly  about  her  shoulders. 
She  clung  desperately  to  the  pony's  neck.  Close 
behind    her    galloped    a   pov/erful    black    horse, 


138  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

whose  rider  was  evidently  essaying  to  overtake 
the  pony.  In  a  moment  the  foremost  rider  was 
near  Jerome. 

With  a  swift  bound  he  grasped  the  pony's 
bridle,  and  swung  upon  it  with  all  his  power. 
Despite  his  strength  and  weight,  he  was  dragged 
several  yards  before  he  could  check  the  pony.  He 
recognized  with  a  start  that  its  rider  was  Maxine. 
"Why,  Maxine?"  he  exclaimed.     "What?" 

"Oh,  Mr.  Watkins,"  she  gasped;  then  she 
fainted. 

Calling  two  of  the  hands,  Jerome  bade  them 
hold  the  pony,  while  he  lifted  her  from  the  sad- 
dle. He  tenderly  laid  her  on  the  pine  straw  by 
the  roadway  and  dashed  some  water  in  her  face. 
He  also  rubbed  her  hands  gently. 

Meantime  the  other  rider  had  reined  in  his 
horse,  turned  and  ridden  back.  As  he  halted, 
Jerome  recognized  Gabe  Allen,  and,  bounding 
forward,  cried:  "Wretcn!  what  does  this 
mean?" 

He  pointed  a  quivering  finger  at  the  white 
figure  by  the  roadway. 

"Nothing,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,"  retorted 
Gabriel  with  brazen  insolence.  "It  is  a  legal  holi- 
day and  I  am  on  m}-  way  to  my  father's.  I  think 
I  have  the  right  to  ride  over  the  highway.  About 
a  mile  below  here  I  rode  up  close  behind  the 
pony ;  and  for  some  reason  it  took  fright  and 
dashed  off.  That's  all  I  know  about  it,  and  I 
don't  see  that  I  am  under  any  obligations  to  tell 
you  even  that  much." 

"You'll  be  under  obligations  to  remain  here 
till  I  hear  Miss  MacDonald's  side  of  the  ques- 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  139 

tion,"  said  Jerome,  coolly  drawing  his  pistol  and 
pointing  it  at  Gabriel.  "And  if  you  are  not 
exonerated  of  having  purposely  frightened  her 
horse,  I'll  jerk  you  from  that  saddle  and  thrash 
you  like  the  dog  that  you  are." 

Gabriel's  thin,  cruel  lip  curled  with  scorn.  "So 
you've  turned  Lord  Protector,  eh?"  he  snarled. 
"You'd  better  get  one  for  yourself  before  an- 
other gang  of  niggers  thrashes  you." 

"When  you  say  that,  you  are  an  infamous 
liar !"  cried  Jerome,  white  with  rage.  "You  hired 
them  to  mutiny  against  me,  and  didn't  have  the 
courage  to  stand  by  them.  You  paid  their  way 
to  Georgia  to  keep  them  from  being  prosecuted. 
You  were  afraid  to  face  the  music" — 

Jerome  started  to  say  something  else,  but 
Maxine's  voice  arrested  him.  "Take  me  home, 
please,  Mr.  Watkins,"  she  faltered. 

"Miss  Maxine,"  he  broke  in,  "did  this  villian 
purposely  frighten  your  horse?  Did  he  frighten 
you?" 

"He  rode  up  behind  me  suddenly — the  pony  be- 
came frightened  and  ran  away — I  couldn't  con- 
trol him — I  do  not  think — I  do  not  know  that 
Mr.  Allen  did  this  purposely — I  had  started  to 
ride." 

She  gazed  up  at  Jerome,  as  she  sat  on  the  pine- 
straw,  her  face  still  white,  her  voice  tremulous 
with  excitement. 

"You  may  go  now,"  said  Jerome,  beckoning 
to  Gabriel.  "It  is  well  for  you  that  this  was  an 
accident." 

"Fine  words,  my  Lord  Protector!"  hissed  Ga- 
briel as  he  cut  his  horse.  "We  shall  see  each  other 


140  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

later.  Good-day,  Miss  Maxine,"  he  called,  turn- 
ing in  his  saddle  when  he  had  ridden  a  little 
way ;  "I  regret  that  this  accident  occurred-  I  as- 
sure you  it  was  unintentional  on  my  part." 

Then  he  stiffly  galloped  on  his  way.  "Foiled 
again,"  he  muttered.  "Damn  this  way  of  trying 
to  do  like  the  novels  say.  The  shoe  always  gets 
on  the  wrong  foot." 

Very  tenderly  Jerome  helped  Maxine  into  her 
saddle,  and  set  out  to  lead  her  horse  back  to  An- 
sonville. 

"It  was  so  brave  of  you  to  stop  my  pony,"  said 
Maxine,  letting  one  of  her  fair  hands  rest  softly 
upon  Jerome's  broad  shoulder  as  he  fell  back  a 
little  near  her  side.  "And  were  you  not  injured?" 
she  queried,  solicitously.    "I'm  afraid  you  were." 

"Oh,  no,"  he  hastened  to  interpose.  "I  was 
just  bruised  a  little." 

He  raised  his  sleeve  a  few  inches,  disclosing  a 
long  bruise  where  the  skin  had  been  rubbed  off 
by  the  rein.    "It  amounts  to  nothing." 

"Oh !"  she  exclaimed  sympathetically,  "you 
must  let  me  bind  it  up  when  we  get  to  Ansonville. 
To  think  I  should  have  been  so  foolish  as  to  ride 
a  new  pony  two  miles  in  the  country!" 

"To  think  that  that  scoundrel  should  have  fol- 
lowed you  and  dashed  up  suddenly  behind  you. 
That  would  frighten  any  spirited  horse." 

"We'll  not  speak  of  that  any  more,"  she  said 
sweetly,  anxious  to  calm  Jerome's  temper.  "It's 
all  over  now  and  can't  be  helped." 

When  they  reached  Ansonville  she  insisted  that 
Jerome  should  accompany  her  to  the  banker's 
house  and  let  her  bind  up  his  wounded  arm.    He 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  141 

argued  that  he  was  in  his  workday's  attire,  but 
all  in  vain.  His  plea  that  the  banker  objected  to 
his  presence  in  his  home  was  promptly  waived 
aside.  "Surely,"  she  said,  "my  uncle  will  make 
this  an  exception.  I  don't  believe  you  want  to 
go  with  me,"  she  added  with  a  pretty  pout.  That 
settled  the  matter.  Jerome  would  have  gone  then 
through  a  fiery  furnace. 

Finally  they  were  in  the  banker's  house.  "And 
now  to  my  surgery,"  said  Maxine  playfully,  in- 
dicating an  easy  chair.  She  brought  a  dainty 
handkerchief  and  a  bottle  of  Witch  Hazel. 
"Bare  your  arm,  sir,"  she  ordered  with  medical 
dignity. 

Jerome  obeyed. 

"Ah !  it's  worse  than  I  thought,"  she  exclaimed, 
pityingly,  touching  the  bruised  spot  tenderly  with 
the  tips  of  her  fingers.  "The  flesh  is  lacerated 
in  one  place,  where  the  edge  of  the  rein  cut  in." 

She  poured  some  of  the  Witch  Hazel  on  the 
soft  handkerchief  and  gently  wound  it  about  his 
arm.     Then  she  took  a  bit  of  thread  and  tied  it. 

"You've  bound  and  bewitched  me,"  he 
laughed.  "But  you  haven't  tied  that  thread  tight 
enough." 

She  leaned  over  to  tie  it  more  firmly,  and  he 
suddenly  kissed  her  fragrant  hair  (at  the  very 
moment  Mr.  MacDonald  passed  by,  and,  glanc- 
ing through  the  window,  beheld  the  scene). 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir?"  she  cried,  striving 
hard  to  appear  angry. 

"That  I  always  pay  my  doctor's  bills,"  Jerome 
replied  merrily.  "And  you  will  have  to  pay  a 
lawyer's  bill,  too,"  replied  Mr.  MacDonald,  who 


142  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

had  entered  unobserved.  His  eyes  were  blazing 
with  rage.  His  thin  Hps  quivered.  His  florid 
face  was  hvid.  He  strode  to  and  fro  like  a 
pampered  tiger. 

"Oh,  uncle,  he  saved  my  life!"  Maxine  cried, 
springing  up  in  alarm.  The  banker  waived  her 
aside.    "Get  out !"  he  said  to  Jerome. 

"It  is  your  house,"  observed  Jerome  coolly. 
"And  a  man's  house  is  his  castle.  It  is  necessary 
for  me  to  heed  you  here,  but  not  elsewhere,"  he 
added  meaningly.  Then  with  a  bow  to  Maxine, 
he  turned  and  left  the  room,  quickly  crossing  the 
threshold  into  the  street. 


I 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  143 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE   COMING   OF   THE   COLLEGE   PRESIDENT. 

It  created  quite  a  stir  in  the  river  section  when 
it  was  announced  that  the  distinguished  Doctor 
Bowman,  President  of  Forest  College,  would  de- 
liver an  address  at  the  Pee  Dee  Academy.  Doc- 
tor Bowman  bore  the  reputation  of  being  both 
scholarly  and  eloquent,  the  latter  of  which  quali- 
fications alone  was  always  sufficient  to  draw  a 
crowd  there. 

When  the  appointed  day  arrived,  the  Academy 
fairly  overflowed  with  folk  of  all  ages,  classes 
and  conditions.  Babies  and  numerous  nonde- 
script canines — howlers  and  growlers — were  es- 
pecially in  evidence. 

Jerome — who  of  course  could  not  allow  such 
an  opportunity  to  pass — remarked,  to  his  almost 
infinite  delight,  that  Maxine  was  in  the  audience. 
The  banker  seldom  neglected  an  opportunity  to 
get  something  for  nothing — even  educational 
rare-bits,  though  he  did  not  bank  much  on  edu- 
cation beyond  the  figure-line. 

At  length  Doctor  Bowman  arose.  In  his  hands 
was  an  open  Bible.  He  was  a  medium-sized, 
spare-built  man  of  perhaps  fifty.  There  was  an 
exceedingly  benevolent  expression  in  his  clear 
blue  eyes.    His  high,  intellectual  forehead,  well- 


144  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

chiseled  nose  and  flowing,  reddish-brown  beard 
gave  him  something  of  the  profile  of  a  Greek 
philosopher.  His  voice  was  soft  and  slightly 
nasal;  but  the  auditors  hung  on  his  words  with 
almost  breathless  silence.  There  was  about  him 
an  indefinable  charm,  a  subtle  magnetism.  And 
you  listened  because  you  had  absolutely  no  choice 
in  the  matter — as  one  hypnotized  by  superior 
power. 

He  read  the  first  chapter  of  First  Peter,  and, 
after  a  brief,  earnest  prayer,  announced  as  his 
theme  the  thirteenth  verse:  "Wherefore  gird 
up  the  loins  of  thy  mind." 

Jerome's  eyes  instantly  sought  Maxine's.  They 
gazed  at  each  other  wonderingly.  It  was  the 
theme  they  had  so  often  discussed,  yet  never 
sought  in  Scripture.  Its  very  appositeness  was 
startling. 

Doctor  Bovvanan  first  referred  to  Peter,  the 
author  of  the  Epistle,  as  a  great,  strong  man  of 
the  sea,  saying  that  he  was  the  one  disciple  typi- 
cal of  physical  strength;  that  he  knew  what  it 
was  to  gird  one's  loins  for  the  toil  of  the  sea ;  and 
that,  applying  the  figure  to  the  mind,  the  apostle 
had  besought  the  men  of  all  ages  to  be  mentally 
strong. 

"Peter,"  said  the  speaker,  "was  an  unlearned 
man,  but  one  who  realized  the  importance  of  in- 
tellectual discipline  and  development.  He  was 
not  a  narrow-minded  man.  The  uncultured  are 
not  always  narrow. 

"It  might  also  be  true,"  suggested  the  speaker, 
"that  the  writer  referred  to  the  custom  of  gird- 
ing one's    loins    in    the  Grecian  games  held  at 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  145 

Corinth  and  elsewhere.  In  these  struggles  for 
the  wreath  of  laurel  one  needed  to  be  well  girded. 
How  much  more  do  we  require  the  girding  of 
our  mental  loins  to  enter  the  great  struggle  of 
life!  Our  success  depends  upon  our  preparation 
— absolutely  upon  our  preparation. 

*'And  I  will  first  take  up  the  meaning  of  edu- 
cation. It  is  a  common  and  current  error  that 
Education  means  to  create  brains.  Not  all  the 
colleges  and  schools  in  the  universe,  working  to- 
gether harmoniously  till  the  end  of  time,  could 
create  one  ounce  of  brain.  The  province  of  Edu- 
cation is  to  discover  and  to  develop ;  to  polish ; 
to  sharpen ;  to  lead  out  the  Giant  Intellect  from 
the  dormant  vale  of  Mental  Mist.  We  have 
slumbered  too  long  in  North  Carolina.  We  must 
gird  up  the  loins  of  our  minds,  if  we  are  to  keep 
pace  with  the  stride  of  the  States.  The  watch- 
word of  the  age  is  'Educate  or  perish.'  In  that 
grand  race  of  civilization,  let  us  not  be  laggards. 
We  have  the  material  (from  the  shingly  shores 
of  the  East  to  the  blue  border  of  the  western 
mountains  we  may  boast  a  rugged  race,  strong  as 
the  Vikings ;  sturdy  as  the  dwellers  on  the  Scot- 
tish hills)  and  let  us  use  it — not  abuse  it — giving 
to  everyone  the  chance  to  gird  his  mind  for  the 
irrepressible  conflict." 

Jerome's  eyes  were  flashing.  His  bosom 
heaved.  He  half  rose  from  his  seat,  bending  to- 
ward the  speaker  as  if  drawn  by  irresistible  mag- 
netism. 

"Our  duty  demands  it  of  us,"  the  speaker  ran 
on.  "No  man  has  the  right  to  stop  short  of  his 
utmost  capacity.    We  owe  it  to  ourselves  and  to 


146  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

our  fellows  to  make  the  most  of  every  oppor- 
tunity. And  in  this  connection  I  wish  to  say 
that  we  can  render  no  higher  service  to  God  than 
to  continue  our  benefactions  to  the  Negro  Race. 
While  the  negro  must  not  seek  to  infringe  upon 
the  social  rights  and  instincts  of  the  white  man, 
let  him  have  fully  and  freely  the  opportunity  to 
make  the  most  of  himself  educationally.  Educa- 
tion does  not  and  cannot,  to  use  an  expression 
with  which  you  are  all  familiar,  'let  down  the 
bars'  to  social  equality.  Education  is  one  thing; 
social  equality  is  quite  another  thing.  The  white 
man  would  have  everything  to  lose  and  nothing 
to  gain  by  Social  Equality.  But  it  is  none  the 
less  the  duty  of  the  white  man  to  give  to  the 
weaker  race  a  chance  to  establish  an  educational 
equality  of  its  own,  in  which  every  educated 
negro  shall  be  the  equal  socially  of  every  other 
educated  negro — if  that  definition  is  desired. 
And  it  should  be  strongly  impressed  upon  the 
negro  that  Education  is  not  something  to  elevate 
him  above  work,  but  something  to  prepare  him 
for  better  work.  His  mind  should  be  thoroughly 
disabused  of  the  idea  that  Education  is  an  end, 
and  enabled  to  grasp  the  great  underlying  truth 
that  it  is,  and  can,  be  only  a  means — a  girding  of 
the  mental  loins. 

"Young  gentlemen,"  concluded  the  scholarly 
President,  after  other  thoughtful  remarks  along 
racial  lines,  "it  is  your  privilege  to  be,  in  the 
highest  and  holiest  sense,  men  (men  of  the  fields, 
it  may  be ;  of  the  flocks  if  need  be)  men  of  honor 
and  power.  Prepare  yourselves  well  for  the  op- 
portunities   and    responsibilities    of    citizenship. 


The  Girdjle  of  the  Great  147 

Upon  your  strong  shoulders  shall  rest  soon  the 
burdens  of  the  Republic.  About  your  sturdy 
loins  shall  be  clasped  soon  the  girdle  of  your 
fathers.  I  beseech  you  to  wear  them  worthily  as 
your  fathers  have  done ;  to  make  good  your  heri- 
tage ;  to  strengthen  the  pillars  of  prosperity  in  the 
Temple  of  Peace. 

"And  finally" — by  some  chance  the  doctor's 
bright  eyes  suddenly  turned  on  Jerome  twin  rays 
of  thrilling  light — "I  bid  you  gird  up  the  loins 
of  your  minds  to  enter  that  race  which  is  to  the 
swift,  and  that  battle  which  is  to  the  strong. 
For  the  day  shall  soon  dawn  in  North  Carolina 
when  to  be  slow  shall  be  provincial,  and  to  be  if- 
literate  an  archaism." 

The  doctor  resumed  his  seat  amid  the  reverent 
silence  with  which  his  auditors  had  greeted  him, 
and  which  they  had  given  him  throughout  the 
hour.  He  had  made  a  profound  impression. 
Many  of  the  farmers  present  had  never  before 
seen  Education  in  that  light.  To  the  majority  of 
them  it  had  been  hitherto  a  "dry"  subject — a 
skeleton — devoid  of  life  and  interest.  He  had 
made  the  dry  bones  live.  Some  of  the  auditors 
had  even  felt  that  to  educate  their  children  was 
to  cast  a  stigma  upon  the  old  farm.  They  saw 
now  that  the  one  great  purpose  of  the  schools  and 
colleges  was  to  win  the  boys  back  to  rather  than 
to  wean  them  from  the  soil ;  that  it  was  not  really 
true  that  the  institutions  of  learning  were  respon- 
sible for  the  overcrowded  professions;  that  the 
young  men  who  were  to  succeed  in  the  future  in 
farming,  or  in  any  other  avocation,  required  the 
strength   of  brain   as   well   as   the   strength  of 


148  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

brawn.  These  farmers  were  not  men  of  great 
culture,  but  they  were  men  of  great  capacity. 
And.  better  still,  they  were  never  known  to  deny 
the  Truth  to  its  face.  If  they  harbored  Ignor- 
ance, they  never  wilfully  hobnobbed  with  it. 
There  were  great  veins  of  honesty  underlying 
their  rugged  exterior  like  the  veins  of  gold  run- 
ning through  their  native  hills.  When  their  con- 
sciences approved  any  course,  they  stood  like 
granite — silent  as  the  stone ;  just  as  firmly.  The 
doctor's  address  was,  therefore,  fruitful  for  years 
to  come. 

In  Jerome  had  been  kindled  a  strong  desire  to 
enter  college  at  once.  When  the  opportunity 
presented  itself,  he  approached  the  college  presi- 
dent and  apprised  him  of  that  desire.  He  re- 
ceived every  encouragement,  including  the  prom- 
ise of  a  situation,  which  would  enable  him  to  con- 
tinue his  course  without  interruption.  He  was 
in  high  spirits  when  he  finally  turned  away  to 
seek  Maxine.  He  found  her,  to  his  consterna- 
tion, closely  guarded  by  her  uncle  and  Gabriel 
Allen,  and  simply  bowed  and  passed  on,  a  trace 
of  bitterness  in  the  chalice  of  his  joy.  Gabriel 
had  been  with  her  quite  often  of  late.  Jerome 
had  been  unable  to  obtain  from  Maxine  a  satis- 
factory explanation ;  but  she  had  hinted  that  it 
was  the  earnest  desire  of  Mr.  MacDonald  that 
she  should  not  refuse  Gabriel's  company. 

Two  weeks  later  Jerome  was  ready  to  go  to 
Forest  College.  During  this  interval  he  had  not 
seen  Maxine,  though  he  had  made  every  effort  to 
do  so.  She  was  always  out,  or  indisposed,  or 
asleep,  or  otherwise  too  much  engaged  to  see  him. 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  149 

For  some  reason,  or  no  reason,  or  a  woman's 
reason,  Jerome  was  repeatedly  denied  the 
pleasure  of  her  presence;  and  this  was  silently 
eating  out  his  heart.  His  face  was  thinner  than 
usual  and  very  pale.  His  manner  was  nervous. 
In  brief,  his  whole  attitude  was  one  of  gaunt 
misery  and  despair,  but  slightly  illumined  by  the 
flaming  cressets  of  ambition,  which  still  shone  in 
his  dark  eyes. 

"What's  de  matter  wid  you,  Marse  Romey?" 
asked  Old  Sam,  coming  upon  Jerome  as  he  was 
standing  at  the  big  gate  one  evening,  gazing  off 
in  the  direction  of  Ansonville,  "you  looks  lak 
you'se  got  trouble  in  yo'  min'. 

"Now,  honey,  des  tell  yo'  ole  nigger  what's 
bin  er  fotchin'  you  doun'  so,"  he  said  tenderly, 
drawing  nearer.  His  wrinkled  old  face  was  a 
charcoal-sketch  of  honest  sympathy.  No  wom- 
an's voice  was  ever  tenderer  than  that  in  which 
he  betrayed  his  deep  devotion  to  the  son  of  his 
old  master. 

"Nothing  much.  Uncle  Sam — just  hate  to  leave 
home,  I  reckon,"  said  Jerome  at  length. 

"Gawd  bless  you,  chile,  fer  lubin'  yo'  home. 
Dat  Bill  uv  mine's  done  sot  'is  hede  'ginst  eber 
comin'  back.  He  sez  de  school  whar  'e's  at 
teaches  niggers  ter  be  'fessional  men — dat  he 
aint  gwine  ter  come  back  ter  de  f'am  en  be  lak 
po'  white  trash.  I  finks  'e's  dun  turned  er  fool, 
dat's  w'at  I  does."  The  old  man  emphasized 
the  statement  by  a  sudden  contraction  of  his 
brows. 

"You  must  take  good  care  of  father  and  mother 
while  I'm  gone,  Uncle  Sam.    They've  depended 


ISO  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

so  much  on  me,  you  know."  Jerome  had  ignored 
the  reference  to  Bill  and  turned  the  second 
weightiest  matter  from  his  heart. 

"Des  lis'n  at  dat  sassy  boy!  In  co'se  Ise 
gwine  ter  tek  keer  uv'm.  W'ensumever  didn't  dis 
nigger  do  dat?  He  done  it  'fo'  you  wuz  bo'n. 
Marse  Romey,  you  orter  be  'shamed  uv  yo'se'f 
fer  ev'n  sayin'  dese  words  uv  'spishunashun 
'bout  de  po'  ole  nigger."  He  paused  and  contem- 
plated Jerome  with  an  air  of  offended  dignity. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  know  you'll  do  it,  Uncle  Sam," 
Jerome  hastened  to  interpose.  "I  just  thought 
I'd  like  to  hear  you  say  you  would.  It  does  one 
good  to  hear  you  say  such  things." 

"Doan  go  off  now  an'  larn  ter  'spise  de  plan- 
tation, Marse  Romey,"  the  old  man  said  ad- 
monishingly  as  Jerome  turned  to  go;  "doan  go 
off  an'  fergit  de  ole  nigger,  kase  'e's  gwine  ter 
lub  you  ter  de  en',  ter  de  en'." 

"I  shall  learn  to  love  the  plantation  better  and 
I  shall  never  forget  you.  Uncle  Sam — no,  not  till 
I  am  too  unworthy  to  remember  how  they  said 
you  stood  by  my  mother  in  the  dark  war-days," 
responded  Jerome  with  feeling.  "And  you  shall 
not  find  a  lack  of  friendship  while  one  of  our 
blood  lives.  I  only  wish  everybody  were  as  true," 
he  muttered  moodily  as  he  went  up  the  walk. 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  151 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

MAJOR    GRAVES    GOES    SOUTH. 

Major  Creighton  Graves  seldom  spoke  at 
random.  When  he  told  Colonel  Watkins  that  he 
was  coming  South  on  a  fishing  expedition,  he 
meant  precisely  what  he  said.  Accordingly  one 
bright  June  day  saw  him  alight  from  the  train 
at  Ansonville.  The  Major  was  slightly  grayer 
than  on  his  first  trip,  but  his  step  was  brisk  and 
his  manner  alert.  His  kindly  eyes  had  in  them 
the  twinkling  good  humor  of  a  man  who  has 
started  a-fishing.  Being  overladen  with  his  lug- 
gage, he  accosted  a  sleek  young  negro,  who  was 
standing  nearby  on  the  platform,  saying:  "Here, 
boy,  take  my  baggage." 

The  negro  instantly  flew  into  a  passion.  "Who 
are  you  talking  to,  white  man  ?"  he  cried,  rolling 
his  eyes  and  lips  in  utter  disdain  and  disgust. 
"Does  I  look  like  a  waiting  boy?  I'll  have  you 
to  know,  sir,  that  I'm  Mr.  William  Watkins!" 

"You  are  an  impudent  scoundrel!"  cried  the 
Major,  throwing  his  baggage  to  the  ground,  "and 
I'll  teach  you  something  that  you  won't  soon  for- 
get." 

But  Bill  did  not  wait  for  that  lesson.  He 
turned  and  fled  from  his  would-be  assailant  with 
marvcbus    swiftness.      His    swallow-tail    coat 


152  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

fairly  floated  in  the  breeze  as  he  sought  the  shel- 
ter of  a  distant  negro  cabin.  He  almost  shook 
the  door  off  its  hinges. 

"What  in  de  Lord's  name  is  de  matter  wid 
you,  nigger?"  cried  an  old  woman,  looking  up 
from  her  wash  tub. 

Bill  hurriedly  explained  the  situation. 

"Funny  thing  for  a  Yankee  to  do,"  he  ran  on ; 
"mighty  curious." 

"Everyting's  cur'us  to  er  cur'us  nigger,  Bill. 
En  hit's  gwineter  git  mo'  cur  "user  if  you  don't 
'have  yo'se'f.  Dese  white  fo'ks  am  all  right 
twell  er  a  sassy  nigger  gits  um  all  wrong.  We 
nebber  had  no  sich  foolishness  fo'  de  war.  I'll 
bet  er  poun'  uv  soap  you'se  quit  b'leevin'  in 
hants,  an  dat  you  aint  got  de  lef  hin'  foot  uv 
grabe-ya'd  rabbit  in  yo'  pocket." 

"Aw,  you  obstruct  my  sagacity,"  retorted  Bill, 
pulling  a  cigar  from  his  pocket  and  sandwiching 
it  between  his  thick  lips. 

"You  can't  consult  me  in  my  house,  nigger," 
cried  the  old  woman,  wrathfully  wringing  a  towel 
from  the  suds,  "an'  me  polly  at  dat.  You've 
done  gone  an'  unsot  my  nervousness  so  much  dat 
I'll  hab  ter  insult  de  Doctor.  Git  out'n  heah,  you 
biggity  nigger!"  she  cried  Viith  a  fresh  outburst 
of  wrath,  "I  ain't  gv\^ineter  stan'  yo'  sass  if  I  is 
yo'  own  aunt." 

Bill  sauntered  off  up  the  street,  muttering: 
"That's  how  much  a  colored  lawyer  is  appre- 
ciated in  the  South." 

Major  Graves  was  warmly  welcomed  at  River- 
wood,  every  member  of  the  Colonel's  family  ex- 


The  Girdle  of  The  dREAf  153 

tending  him  that  hearty  hospitality  for  which  the 
South  is  famous.  "Glad  to  see  you,  sir,  glad  to 
see  you,  sir,"  exclaimed  the  Colonel,  forgetting 
momentarily  the  twinge  of  rheumatism  which  for 
several  days  had  kept  his  face  awry.  "The  sight 
of  you  does  my  eyes  good.  And  rheumatism  or 
no  rheumatism,  I'm  going  a-fishing  with  you.  I 
hope  you  have  brought  plenty  of  rods,  reels, 
tackle,  etc." 

"Yes,  and  I  wanted  a  rod  to  tackle  an  impudent 
negro  over  at  Ansonville  this  morning  worse 
than  Richard  III.  wanted  a  horse,"  said  the 
Major.     He  related  the  incident  to  the  Colonel. 

"Oh,  yes — Bill,  Sam's  son,"  exclaimed  the 
Colonel.  "That  shows  the  folly  of  educating  a 
negro's  head.  It  always  gives  him  the  big-head. 
He  came  over  here  the  other  day  and  Sam 
thrashed  him  before  he  had  been  on  the  place  an 
hour. 

"But,"  the  Colonel  ran  on,  "I  have  never  been 
more  surprised  than  by  the  change  wrought  at 
Tuskeegee  Institute  in  his  brother  Ben.  "  He's 
come  back  to  the  plantation  respectful,  honest, 
and  industrious.  He's  down  yonder  now  plow- 
ing corn — the  Colonel  jerked  his  thumb  toward 
the  river-bottom — and  I  really  believe  the  In- 
dustrial Institute  will  make  a  smart  negro  of 
him." 

"That  has  always  been  my  idea  of  educating 
the  negro,"  said  the  Major,  "such  education  as 
Bill  has  received  is  but  the  sowing  of  dragon's 
teeth.  It  will  never  benefit  the  negro  and  will 
prove  a  curse  to  the  South.  I  have  heard  muck 
about  the  persecution  of  the  negro;  I  think  it's 


154  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

about  time  we  are  hearing  something  of  the  per- 
secution of  the  white  man.  I  am  fully  persuaded 
that  there  is  on  the  part  of  the  best  citizens  of 
the  South  no  disposition  to  treat  the  negro  un- 
fairly." 

"You  are  right,  sir,"  replied  the  Colonel;  "we 
of  the  South  most  emphatically  deny  that  we  de- 
sire the  negro  mistreated  or  in  any  way  op- 
pressed. Lynch-law  is  universally  condemned 
by  our  best  citizens  through  their  chief  executives, 
judges,  juries,  and  ministers  of  the  Gospel. 
When  crime  has  been  committed,  the  officers  of 
the  law  act  promptly,  without  passion  or  preju- 
dice. The  negro  criminal  is  afforded  the  same 
protection  afforded  the  white  criminal. 

"But  while  we  propose  to  treat  the  negro 
fairly  in  every  relation  of  life,  we  have  neverthe- 
less firmly  and  finally  decreed  that  he  shall  not 
be  the  subject  of  social  honor  and  elevation  at 
the  hands  of  the  white  man.  Why  should  the 
white  man  lower  himself  to  lift  up  the  negro? 
What  has  the  negro  to  give  in  exchange  for 
social  equality  ?  Social  equality  has  one  tendency 
and  only  one — (it  has  been  true  of  all  collateral 
races)  race-amalgamation.  The  blending  of  a  su- 
perior with  an  inferior  race  means  the  preserva- 
tion of  all  the  vices  of  the  one  with  the  weaken- 
ing of  all  the  virtues  of  the  other.  The  negro's 
uplift  must  come  from  within.  You  cannot 
strengthen  sand  with  steel." 

Jerome,  who  had  been  hastening  his  prepara- 
tions to  enter  Forest  College,  was  sitting  with 
them  on  the  veranda.  He  could  scarcely  suppress 
an  exclamation  of  delight  at  his  father's  strong 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  155 

nentality.  He  had  known  him  as  a  pohshed  gen- 
tleman, and  as  a  thoughtful  student  of  affairs. 
He  had  never  before  seen  him  in  the  role  of  a 
philosopher. 

Major  Graves,  too,  betrayed  his  admiration  of 
the  Colonel's  keen  introspective  ability. 

"You  reason  well,  sir,"  he  exclaimed  heartily; 
'but  how,  for  the  sake  of  argument,  can  the  negro 
develop  those  qualities  that  he  does  not  possess? 
We  learn  from  astronomy  that  living  bodies 
spring  from  the  impact  of  dead  suns.  But  how 
can  a  race  sunk  in  the  stupor  of  the  ages  rise 
without  help  to  the  high  seat  of  civilization  and 
culture?  How  otherwise  can  this  dead  sun, 
veiled  in  the  mists  of  centuries,  eclipsed  with  ig- 
norance and  blackened  with  immorality,  shine  in 
the  sky  of  nations?" 

The  Major  had  unwittingly  grown  eloquent. 
Though  a  merchant,  he  might  have  been  a  mas- 
ter of  rhetoric.  The  Colonel  made  no  immediate 
reply.     His  blue  eyes  had  a  far-ofif  expression. 

"Strength  is  either  the  result  of  the  blending 
of  strong  forces  or  the  union  of  weak  forces," 
he  said  at  length.  "The  amalgamation  of  these 
two  races  in  question  would  be  a  worthless  hybrid 
— such  as  you  often  see  in  the  South  to-day,  sir. 
In  him  you  have  the  type  of  a  race  far  inferior  to 
the  white  man,  a  stirrer  up  of  race-antipathy,  a 
satire  in  black  and  white.  Whatever  of  progress 
the  world  has  made  is  due  to  the  Caucasian  race. 
The  intellectuality  of  Asiatics,  for  instance,  while 
undeniable,  is  a  dreamy,  namby-pamby  sort  of 
stuff,  exhaling  itself  in  Rnbaiyats  of  rose-red- 
dened dawns  and  wine-flushed  goblets.    America 


156  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

has  wrought  what  Europe  has  attempted  and 
Asia  has  dreamed. 

"To  establish  a  Social  Equality  between  the 
collateral  races  would  be  to  fall  behind  the 
Asiatic,  to  give  the  pennant  of  progress  forever 
to  the  Europeans." 

"I  am  bitterly  opposed  to  Social  Equality;  I 
would  not  tolerate  it  for  a  thousandth  part  of  a 
second,"  interposed  the  Major  kindly  but  em- 
phatically. "I  was  only  suggesting  that  possibly 
the  South  had  not  paid  sufficient  attention  to  the 
negro's  development." 

"You  think,  then,  Major,  that  more  attention  is 
pa;d  to  this  in  the  North?"  queried  the  Colonel, 
with  a  mischievous  twinkle  in  his  eyes. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Then  you  are  more  unjust  to  the  negro  than 
we  are." 

"Why?" 

"Because  you  take  him  away  from  work  to 
educate  him,  and  then  give  him  nothing  to  do. 
You  refine  him  sufficiently  to  ride  in  your  cars, 
but  you  won't  help  him  pay  his  fare.  We  em- 
ploy him  in  preference  to  the  German  and  the 
Swede ;  and  our  laborers  will  work  with  him.  A 
white  barber,  for  example,  stands  a  poor  chance 
in  the  same  town  with  a  negro  barber. 

"Sam !"  called  the  Colonel  as  the  old  negro  en- 
tered the  gate.  "Go  and  dig  us  some  bait.  We 
want  to  go  fishing  after  dinner." 

"Yassir.  dat  I  will,  Marse  Gawj,"  the  old  man 
answered  with  alacrity.  "An'  I'll  git  de  bes' 
fishin'  wu'ms  on  dis  plantashun  fer  ye." 

He  shuffled  of?  eagerly  in  search  of  a  grub- 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  157 

bing-hoe.  "Marse  Gawj,"  he  cried  suddenly, 
facing  about,  "I'se  gwineter  dig  plenty  uv  yeth- 
wu'ms;  but  young  ho'nits  is  de  bes'  pearch-bait 
eber  invinted  fer  fishermens.  An'  I  knows  right 
whar  I  kin  git  'er  nes' !  Yassir,  right  down 
yon'er  in  de  ole  goose-plum  tree." 

"All  right,  get  them  for  us,"  cried  the  Colonel. 
Old  Sam  double-quicked  it  around  the  corner  of 
the  house. 

"That's  the  best  negro  that  ever  lived,"  re- 
marked the  Colonel.  "He's  never  given  me  a 
bit  of  trouble.  He's  worked  his  youth  out  for 
me,  and  now  he's  giving  me  his  old  age.  God 
bless  his  old  black  hide.  I  wouldn't  give  him 
for  the  richest  gold-mine  in  North  Carolina.  I 
would  divide  my  last  crust  of  bread  with  him." 

About  three  hours  later  the  Colonel,  the 
Major  and  Jerome  might  have  been  seen  seated 
in  a  canoe  near  the  mouth  of  the  little  creek 
which  emptied  into  the  Pee  Dee.  The  afternoon 
was  beautiful  for  fishing;  a  soft  southerly  breeze 
fanned  the  water  into  silvery  ripples.  A  stress  of 
bird  calls  rose  from  leafy  retreats  along  the 
shore.  From  Dr.  Allen's  plantation  a  negro  song 
floated  clear  and  sweet  over  the  river,  its  refrain 
being : 

Oh!  liT  David,  play  on 

Yo'  harp; 
LiT  David  play  on  yo'  harp, 

LiT  David; 
LiT  Da-a-a-a-a-v-i-d." 

"My,  that's  a  good  one !"  exclaimed  the  Colo- 


158  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

nel,  adroitly  paying  out  his  line,  then  tightening 
it  with  a  sudden  jerk.  And  sure  enough,  it 
proved  to  be  a  big  hurnp-backed  "robin,"  as  the 
sun  perch  is  called  in  some  sections.  The  Colo- 
nel removed  him  from  the  hook  and  cast  him 
into  the  basket  with  an  Izaak  Walton  smile. 

The  Major's  and  Jerom^e's  hooks  remained 
idle. 

The  negro's  song  came  floating  out  again: 

"Some  tim'  up,  an'  some  tim'  down, 
Some  tim'  crawlin'  on  de  groun'." 
"Oh !  HT  David,  play  on  yo'  harp, 
LiT  David,  plav  on  yo'  harp, 
LiT  David,  D-'a-a-a-v-i-d !" 

The  song  served  to  recall  what  the  Major  had 
in  mind  when  the  Colonel  received  his  big  bite. 

'T  was  just  thinking  how  badly  you  need 
skilled  labor  in  the  South,  Colonel,"  he  remarked. 

"Yes,"  observed  the  Colonel,  "we  need  it 
sadly.  But  we  shall  be  forced  to  take  time  to 
make  the  negro  a  skilled  laborer.  He  is  our  in- 
dustrial mainstay.  You  all  won't  hire  him  in  the 
North.    We  prefer  him  to  foreigners." 

"Granting  that  that  is  true  (and  you  mustn't 
think  me  a  fault-finder,  my  dear  friend),  don't 
you  Southern  planters  bank  rather  more  on  the 
quantity  of  the  land  you  cultivate  than  on  the 
quality  and  the  skill  of  your  laborers?" 

"Yes,"  admitted  the  Colonel  frankly,  "that  is 
the  usual  case.  We  cannot  remember  that  Lee's 
surrender  reduced  our  four-horse  plantations  to 
one-horse  farms.    Less  acreage  and  more  efficient 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  15^ 

cultivation  would  work  wonders  in  the  South. 
Tenants  would  soon  become  land-owners." 

"By  the  way,  who's  our  neighbors?"  asked  the 
Major,  indicating  a  newly-arrived  canoe  contain- 
ing a  couple  of  fishermen. 

The  Colonel  strained  his  eyes.  "They  are 
Doctor  Allen  and  Mr.  MacDonald,  as  best  I  can 
see,"  growled  the  Colonel ;  "that's  enough  to  give 
us  the  fisherman's  luck — we'll  catch  eels  and  ter- 
rapins all  the  evening." 

The  words  were  scarcely  spoken  when  one  of 
the  occupants  of  the  new  boat,  in  casting  his  line, 
made  a  false  movement,  careening  the  canoe  too 
far  to  one  side.  The  water  rushed  in  and  the 
canoe  filled  rapidly.  The  occupants  made  a  fran- 
tic cry  of  appeal  to  the  other  boat  as  they  floun- 
dered about  in  the  water.  Neither  of  them  could 
swim. 

"Put  me  ashore  and  go  to  the  rescue!"  cried 
the  Colonel.     "You  are  lighter  and  stronger." 

Jerome  seized  his  paddle  and.  turning  the  boat, 
quickly  approached  the  shore.  The  Colonel  clam- 
bered out  on  a  big  rock,  wisely  realizing  that  his 
weight  and  rheumatism  would  be  a  serious  hand- 
icap. 

A  few  moments  later  Jerome  and  Major 
Graves  were  on  the  scene  of  the  disaster.  Mr. 
MacDonald  with  wonderful  presence  of  mind  had 
clung  to  the  boat,  which  had  not  sunk  to  the 
bottom  of  the  river.  Dr.  Allen  was  floundering 
helplessly  in  the  water.  Quickly  Jerome  put  the 
boat  alongside  the  struggling  man,  and  Major 
Graves,  reaching  over,  pulled  him  with  a  great 
effort  into  the  boat. 


i6o  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

Jerome's  own  hands  rescued  jMr.  MacDonald. 
Both  the  banker  and  the  doctor  were  well  nigh 
exhausted  and  could  do  little  more  than  stare 
blankly  at  their  preservers.  When  they  were 
finally  on  the  shore  they  gave  a  great  sigh  of 
relief. 

The  Doctor  recovered  his  voice  with  a  shud- 
dering gasp.  How  vividly  now  that  night  on 
the  silent  battle-field  came  back!" — the  white 
face,  the  weak  voice,  the  fearless  manner,  all 
these  had  stamped  themselves  indelibly  upon  his 
memory.  And  memory  was  playing  him  no 
trick.  They  came  before  him  again —only 
stronger,  that  was  all.  And  he  would  have 
robbed — would  have  killed  the  man  who  had  res- 
cued him.  He  would  have  thanked  the  i\Iajor 
to  let  him  drown. 

That  would  have  been  a  kindly  fate  compared 
to  being  forced  to  face  the  Major  under  such  cir- 
cumstances. 

'T — thank — you — sir — for  —  saving  —  my  — 
life,"  the  Doctor  gasped,  looking  on  the  ground. 

"I  have  always  made  it  a  point  to  relieve  those 
in  distress,"  the  Major  replied  in  a  manner  whose 
very  mildness  was  an  edged  tool  to  the  Doctor's 
conscience;  or,  rather,  to  where  his  conscience 
ought  to  be.  The  Doctor  had  always  relieved  the 
distressed — of  their  valnahles. 

Mr.  MacDonald  was  not  a  whit  less  embar- 
rassed than  Doctor  Allen.  He  had  come  down 
to  Rocky  Heights  for  a  little  outing,  and  more 
particularly  for  a  little  inning  with  reference  to 
Doctor  Allen's  pocketbook.  He  had  a  large 
scheme  on  hand.    To  be  rescued  froni  drowning 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great"  j6i 

by  Jerome  Watkins  was  more  than  he  had  bar- 
gained for.  He  also  gasped  his  gratitude  and, 
in  company  with  Doctor  Allen,  dragged  his  drip- 
ping body  toward  Rocky  Heights. 

The  Colonel's  party  proceeded  with  their  fish- 
ing. 

"I  told  you  we'd  have  fisherman's  luck," 
laughed  the  Colonel;  "we've  caught  a  terrapin 
and  an  eel." 


l62 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


THE   PARTING   OF   THE    WAYS. 


Jerome's  feelings  as  he  passed  the  Banker's 
house,  on  his  way  to  college  a  few  days  later, 
without  even  so  much  as  a  glimpse  of  Maxine, 
can  scarcely  be  imagined  Had  she  proven  false 
to  him,  after  all?  Was  she  no  better  than  a 
flirt?  An  airy  belle  whose  flippant  heart  and 
head  were  full  of  fleeting  fancies?  Doubtless 
her  grand  theories  about  Education  and  Oppor- 
tunity and  the  South  ^yere  but  barriers  to  block 
his  way.  He  knew  that  women  often  set  im- 
possible standards  in  order  to  rid  themselves  of 
objectionable  suitors.  He  knew  equally  well 
that  some  stupid,  stylish  fop  with  his  small  talk 
of  races,  prize-fights,  etc.,  often  captured  the  af- 
fection denied  to  men  of  strength.  He  recalled 
a  verse  from  Tennyson: 

"As  the  husband  is  the  wife  is ; 
Thou  art  mated  with  a  clown: 
And  the  grossness  of  his  nature 
Will  have  weight  to  drag  thee  down." 

Despite  his  disappointment,  however,  Jerome 
could  not  bring  himself  to  fancy  Maxine  as 
Gabriel's  wife.    That  was  too  incongruous.  Their 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  163 

ideals  were  utterly  dissimilar.  It  would  be  like 
the  mating  of  Light  and  Darkness — Treachery 
and  Truth — the  Dove  in  the  Vulture's  nest. 

There  was,  he  admitted,  a  strain  of  superior 
mettle  in  Maxine's  character.  Otherwise  she 
would  have  allowed  Riverwood  to  pass  into  alien 
hands.  He  recalled  it  all  with  a  thrill  of  sweet 
and  lingering  delight.  Yes,  her's  was  a  choice 
spirit.  There  was  some  secret  and  well-founded 
reason  why  she  refused  to  see  him.  The  Banker 
could  not  have  turned  her  against  him. 

Her  will  was  too  strong  to  be  easily  broken. 
All  the  bankers  in  Christendom  could  not  break 
that  bond  of  steel.  He  suddenly  resolved  not  to 
misjudge  her.  He  would  treat  her  fairly.  He 
would  wait  for  an  explanation  of  the  curt  note 
of  refusal  in  response  to  his  own  requesting  to 
see  her. 

The  delightful  fragrance  of  summer's  last 
roses  scented  the  air.  On  every  hand  rose  the 
varied  sounds  of  a  sleepy  country  village;  the 
rattle  and  rumble  of  wagon  wheels,  the  shouts  of 
youngsters,  the  voices  of  housewives  calling  to 
each  otlier  across  the  streets.  Between  the 
brown  and  leaden-gray  cottages  Jerome  caught 
broad  vistas  of  the  sky,  touched  here  and  there 
with  the  crimson  cressets  of  morning.  He  drew 
the  pure,  rich  air  deeply  into  his  lungs.  Every 
muscle  quivered  with  strength ;  every  nerve  tin- 
gled with  anticipation.  It  was  his  Day  of  Life — 
his  day  of  exodus  from  driveling  toil  into  the 
wider  world  of  golden  hope.  His  mother's  kiss 
seemed  to  linger  yet  upon  his  lips ;  his  hands  still 
ached  from  his  father's  powerful  pressure,  bid- 


164  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

ding  him  God-speed.  If  only  Maxine  had  bid- 
den him  good-bye  and  God-speed!  If  only  she 
had  waved  her  handkerchief,  as  the  fair  ladies 
of  ancient  days  had  waved  their  kerchiefs  to  his 
knightly  forebears !  But  no — she  had  failed  him 
at  the  last.  He  must  enter  the  lists  without  the 
benison  of  his  Lady  Fair.  He  lifted  his  eyes 
with  resolution  and  gazed  straight  ahead.  Far 
down  the  street  he  saw  a  woman's  figure  ap- 
proaching him.  She  was  dressed  in  white,  the 
color  he  loved  best.  Her  walk  was  familiar  to 
him.  How  could  he  forget  that  easy,  graceful 
carriage?  And  she  was  not  alone.  A  man  oc- 
companied  her — a  man  whom  Jerome  would 
have  spurned  with  his  foot. 

She  had  spent  the  night  with  a  girl  friend  and 
was  hurrying  home  to  preside  at  the  Banker's 
breakfast.  As  she  was  passing  the  bank,  Gabriel, 
who  slept  there  and  took  his  meals  at  Mr.  Mac- 
Donald's,  had  come  out  and  joined  her. 

To  Jerome  the  meeting  seemed  prearranged — ■ 
at  least,  pleasant  to  the  parties.  He  could  not 
see  Maxine's  frown  of  impatience.  She  was 
always  rather  "offish"  in  her  street  attitude,  and 
that  could  tell  him  nothing.  Nor  did  Gabriel 
notice  these  little  fire-flings.  The  Banker  had 
told  him  to  be  patient  and  persistent.  And  he 
purposed  to  be. 

Finally  the  pedestrians  met  and  passed.  Max- 
ine colored,  appeared  confused,  murmured  "Mr. 
Watkins !"  Gabriel  scowled  savagely,  but  said 
nothing.    Jerome  raised  his  hat  stiffiy. 

He  seemed  to  have  reached  the  parting  of  the 
ways,  and  to  have  passed  on — on  into  a  new 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  165 

world.  The  verse  from  Tennyson  rang  in  his 
ears  with  maddening  mockery.  He  sighed  for 
the  waters  of  Lethe  that  he  might  drink  and 
forget. 

Before  him  seemed  to  rise  a  spirit  with  flam- 
ing torch.  Emblazoned  on  her  glistening  robe 
was  "Progress."  Her  face  was  to  the  fu- 
ture. In  this  creature  of  fancy  he  recognized  the 
Genius  of  the  New  South.  To  her  should  be 
given  his  faith — his  allegiance — for  her  he  would 
live  and  die.  She  at  least  would  be  true  to  her- 
self and  to  him.  She  held  the  heart  strings  of 
a  mighty  people.  Beneath  the  silvery  strains  of 
her  Orphean  lute  the  trees  that  thickened  and 
throttled  and  darkened  the  mental  realm  of  his 
native  state  would  leave  their  places  to  move  as 
men  in  the  mighty  processional  of  master  minds. 
And  no  longer  would  it  be  left  for  the  blindest 
cynic  to  sneer  in  piping,  sour  tone:  *T  see  men 
as  trees  walking." 

*  *  *  *  *  *  * 

In  due  time  Jerome  arrived  at  Forest  College. 
It  was  a  lovely  place,  even  as  a  painter  or  a  poet 
would  count  loveliness. 

Stately,  classical-looking  trees  rose  like  masts 
from  the  emerald,  grassy  billows  of  the  rolling 
campus.  They  were,  indeed,  survivors  of  the 
primeval  forest — druidic  oaks  to  hold  the  youth 
of  the  state  in  close  communion  with  "ye  olden 
time" — shadowing  spirits  of  strength  and  bene- 
diction. Cone-shaped  magnolias  dotted  the 
grounds,  half  screening  rustic  seats  whereon  am- 
bitious youth  might  con  poetic  Virgil  or  pour 
dulcet  odes  into  the  ear  of  listening  Beauty,  The 


i66  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

buildings  were  all  of  red  brick  and  so  grouped 
together  as  to  suggest  a  line  of  forts.  And  they 
were  forts  in  which  seniors  and  raw  (fresh)  re- 
cruits moulded  mental  bullets  to  penetrate  the 
black  battalions  of  Ignorance.  A  neat  little  vil- 
lage stretched  away  from  the  college  like  float- 
ing fibre  from  a  nucleus. 

The  streets  were  wide  and  flanked  with  spread- 
ing elms.  The  houses  were  for  the  most  part 
old  fashioned — set  high  up  with  basements. 
Strawberry  beds  and  grape  arlx)rs  were  largely 
in  evidence,  and  specially  attractive  during  the 
fruitful  season. 

The  villagers  were  long-suffering,  worthy  ex- 
amples of  patient  piety.  The  expression  of  their 
faces  was  like  that  of  a  camel.  They  realized 
that  they  held  their  property  as  a  noblesse  oblige. 
The  students  stole  their  fruit,  plundered  their 
hen-houses,  and  married  their  daughters.  These 
acts  were  regarded  as  necessary  evils. 

But  during  vacation  season  the  villagers  were 
so  lonely  that  they  audibly  sighed  for  some  one 
to  worry  them.  They  became  passive  advocates 
of  the  doctrine  of  Strenuous  Life. 

With  no  window-panes  to  replace,  and  no 
fences  to  repair,  existence  waxed  wearisome.  The 
student  was,  therefore,  regarded  somewhat  as  the 
mosquito — a  creature  of  attractive  voice  and  un- 
pleasant manners,  but  an  unmistakable  factor  (if 
not  benefactor)  in  life;  a  creature  to  correct 
ennui,  a  creature  to  appear  at  the  most  unac- 
countable times  and  places,  and  to  invariably  dis- 
appear richer  than  he  came. 

Jerome  did  not  know  all  of  these  things  when 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  167 

he  first  set  foot  on  the  classic  soil  of  Forest  Col- 
lege, as  he  knew  them  later.  He  was  burden- 
some only  to  himself.  In  truth  he  felt  hke  a 
disjointed  unit  of  the  universe.  Everything  was 
strange  to  him,  and  he  began  to  feel  lonely.  He 
went  almost  immediately  to  the  president's  office. 
Doctor  Bowman  was  busily  engaged  with  a 
batch  of  letters.  He  looked  up  kindly  as  Jerome 
entered.  "Glad  to  see  you,  ]\Ir.  Watkins!"  he 
exclaimed,  warmly  wringing  Jerome's  hand. 
"You're  just  in  time  to  rescue  me.  I'm  up  to 
my  eyes  in  correspondence.  If  you  will  be  kind 
enough  to  draw  your  chair  up  to  that  desk" — 
the  president  indicated  a  small  waiting-desk  at 
his  left — "I  will  let  you  answer  some  of  my  let- 
ters.    Do  you  know  shorthand?" 

Jerome  regretted  that  he  did  not,  but  he  could 
write  rapidly  and  very  legibly.  He  would  study 
shorthand  if  the  President  desired  it. 

Doctor  Bowman  expressed  surprise  at  the  re- 
markable rapidity  with  which  Jerome  wrote  the 
small,  neat  italic-looking  letters  across  the  pages. 
His  writing  resembled  ancient  script.  He  was 
always  thankful  that  Doctor  Bowman  put  him 
immediately  to  work.  It  drove  the  incipient 
sickness  from  his  heart. 

Next  morning  he  matriculated  and  entered  his 
classes.  He  found,  to  his  surprise,  that  he  was 
sufficiently  far  advanced  to  enter  the  junior  class. 
His  preparation  at  the  Pee  Dee  Academy  had 
been  thorough.  Also  he  had  studied  much  at 
night. 
A  few  days  after  his  arrival  at  Forest  College 


l68  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

he  received  a  letter  which  set  his  heart  athrob.    It 
was  from  Maxine  and  read: 

"My  dear  Mr.  Watkins : 

"You  doubtless  think  strange  of  my  recent 
attitude  toward  you.  But  circumstances  beyond 
my  control  rendered  it  necessary.  Some  day  I 
will  fully  explain  my  situation.  It  is  best  for  you 
that  I  should  not  do  so  now.  Do  not  forget  your 
ideal.  Live  and  labor  for  our  New  South — and 
trust  me. 

"Sincerely  your  friend, 

"Maxine  MacDonald." 

Jerome  thrust  the  letter  in  his  pocket  with  a 
great  sigh  of  disappointment.  The  mystery 
deepened  and  darkened. 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  169 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE   COILS  OF   COMMERCIALISM. 

Mr.  MacDonald  sat  in  his  easy  chair.  In  fact, 
Mr.  MacDonald's  chair  was  always  easy  when 
financial  figures  moved  to  the  melody  of  his  mas- 
ter mind.  They  pleased  him  well  now.  A  recent 
venture  in  the  cotton  market  had  brought  him 
handsome  returns.  The  greed  of  the  gambler 
shone  in  the  cold,  ice-like  glitter  of  his  small, 
shrewd  eyes.  If  he  could  only  run  the  gauntlet 
of  the  bears  of  Wall  Street  at  the  present  rate 
he  would  be  a  millionaire!  His  heart  throbbed 
with  the  thought.  "Um — ah!"  he  exclaimed 
aloud  as  a  magnificent  vista  of  shining  yellow 
metal  burst  on  his  financial  fancy. 

He  arose  from  his  chair  and  nervously  paced 
the  floor.  The  figures  on  the  wall  paper  became 
dollar-marks.  He  started  as  a  clink  of  coins 
reached  him  from  the  cashier's  window.  Sounds 
often  convey  ideas,  and  Mr.  MacDonald  was  sud- 
denly aware  of  a  very  significant  idea.  Why  not 
enlist  Gabriel  in  the  enterprise?  Sooner  or  later 
he  would  have  to  do  so.  The  most  import'dut 
man  in  a  matter  like  that  was  the  man  behind 
the  books.  Yes,  he  must  have  help.  The  idea 
burned  into  Mr.  MacDonald's  brain  till  it  burned 
out  the  last  coal  of  his  smouldering  conscience. 


170  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

•  — -«« 

He  wanted  to  get  rich,*  and' to  get  rich  quick. 
The  cotton  market  afforded  the  best  opportunity. 
To  the  cotton  market,  therefore,  he  would  go  on 
a  larger  scale  than  ever.  With  two  to  cover  his 
tracks  who  would  ever  be  the  wiser? 

He  peered  cautiously  through  his  wicket  to  see 
if  the  coast  was  clear,  then  called  Gabriel  into  his 
office  and  unfolded  his  proposition. 

Gabriel  accepted  it  with  alacrity.  He  saw  a 
sure  road  to  Maxine's  heart;  he  saw  a  way  to 
get  the  Banker  in  his  power.  Oh !  yes,  he  would 
persuade  his  father  to  make  larger  deposits;  he 
would  make  false  entries;  he  would  do  anything 
that  Mr.  MacDonald  suggested;  he  had  perfect 
confidence  in  his  integrity  and  sound  business 
judgment.  He  fairly  bubbled  over  with  enthu- 
siasm. 

"You've  got  the  right  mettle  (the  Banker 
would  have  spelled  it  metal)  in  you,  Gabriel," 
exclaimed  Mr.  MacDonald  with  a  ring  of  deep 
satisfaction  in  his  tone.  "And  you  shall  have 
Maxine" — he  gripped  his  chair  and  leaned  far 
over,  his  voice  sinking  to  a  hoarse  whisper — "you 
shall  have  her  in  spite  of  h — 11 !" 

"And  I  will  have  her  in  spite  of  it,"  said  Ga- 
briel, the  weak  lines  about  his  mouth  hardening 
to  something  like  strength;  "and  in  spite  of  all 

the  Watkinses  between  here  and  there." 

*  *  *  ;^  *  *  * 

Gabriel  and  Mr.  MacDonald  had  little  difficulty 
in  persuading  Doctor  Allen  that  the  deposit  of  a 
certain  amount  of  money,  which  had  recently 
come   into   his  possession,   was   necessary  to   a 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  171 

shrewd  deal  in  mining  land.  The  money  was 
promptly  put  on  the  Cotton  Exchange. 

"I'll  tell  you,  old  Mac's  a  good  one,"  the  Doc- 
tor would  say  to  Gabriel  when  he  inquired  about 
his  bank  account  and  found  it  unexpectedly  large. 
"But  we  must  watch  him.  He's  slick  as  an  eel. 
But  he's  not  a  bit  slicker  than  your  daddy  at  that. 
He'll  find  out  that  he  can't  pull  the  wool  over 
my  eyes." 

"We're  getting  the  old  man  on  the  string,"  the 
Banker  would  laughingly  remark  to  Gabriel. 
"We'll  make  him  rich  while  he  sleeps.  He'll 
wake  up  to  find  himself  a  millionaire." 

One  day  when  Mr.  MacDonald  needed  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  money  to  meet  a  bellow  of  the 
Bulls  he  sold  his  interest  in  the  Brandon  place  to 
Doctor  Allen  for  a  sum  far  below  the  Doctor's 
expectations. 

The  little  man  was  almost  beside  himself  with 
joy.  "Gabriel,"  he  confided,  "I've  made  the  deal 
of  my  life.  Old  Mac's  sold  me  the  Brandon 
Place.  Watkins's  claim  can  be  contested.  I'm 
satisfied  that  I  can" — he  dropped  his  voice  to  a 
whisper — "manage  the  jury.  Go  it,  boy,  and 
keep  on  the  good  side  of,  Old  Mac.  I'll  set  you 
up  some  day." 

Gabriel  tried  hard  to  seem  elated  at  the  pros- 
pect. He  smiled  dryly,  and  assured  his  father 
that  he  would  do  his  best  to  keep  in  the  good 
graces  of  the  Banker. 

Phenomenal  success  rewarded  the  Banker's 
speculation  in  cotton  futures.  He  climbed  higher 
and  higher  on  the  giddy,    glittering    pinnacle. 


172  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

Everything  seemed  to  be  coming  his  way.  He 
indulged  dreams  of  a  gigantic  manufacturing 
trust — a  trust  that  would  control  the  output  of 
the  Southern  States.  He  would  be  its  president, 
its  dictator,  its  demi-god. 

While  this  dream  was  at  its  height  Gabriel  left 
the  cashier's  window  and  entered  the  banker's 
sanctum. 

"Say,  Mr.  MacDonald,"  he  broke  in  almost  ab- 
ruptly, "I've  just  been  wondering  what  my  share 
in  this  speculation  is  to  be.  I  want  to  have  an 
understanding  with  you  about  it.  The  chickens 
are  beginning  to  pip  their  shells  now,  and  I 
want  to  know  how  many  are  to  occupy  my  coop." 

"Oh,  well,  we'll  come  to  some  terms  about 
that,"  replied  the  Banker  quietly;  "we'll  just  be 
partners  for  the  present  and  divide  up  later.  Let 
the  chickens  stay  together  'till  they  are  well 
grown." 

"But  that  don't  satisfy  me,"  persisted  Gabriel. 
"I  must  have  some  definite  understanding  about 
it.  There  are  too  many  twists  and  turns  in  money 
matters.  You've  got  to  name  your  dollars  nowa- 
days before  you  can  claim  'em." 

"How  about  five  hundred  dollars?"  queried 
the  Banker  tentatively. 

"Five  hundred  devils !"  cried  Gabriel,  red  with 
rage.     "Do  you  think  I  am  on  charity?" 

"No,  but  that  seems  to  me  a  first-rate  fee  for 
what  you  have  done — only  a  little  soliciting  from 
your  father." 

"Well,  you'll  double  it  or  I'll  have  my  father 
soliciting  some  funds  from  you,"  retorted  Ga- 
briel. 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  173 

The  Banker  trembled  and  lost  color.  "Why,  I 
was  only  joking  you,"  he  said.  "I  never  expected 
to  offer  you  less  than  one  thousand.  And  you 
may  have  that  to-day  if  you  want  it." 

"Oh,  no,"  replied  Gabriel,  "I  don't  need  it;  I 
just  wanted  an  understanding  about  it.  I'm  per- 
fectly satisfied  to  have  it  here." 

After  this  the  Banker  and  Gabriel  became  more 
intimate  than  ever.  The  shining  coils  of  com- 
mercialism clasped  them  more  and  more  tightly 
'till  every  sense  of  honor  was  deadened.  And 
they  played  their  desperate  game  for  all  it  was 
worth. 


174  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

THE  MANIA  OF  THE  MOB. 

Two  years  had  passed  rapidly.  Jerome  had 
graduated  with  honor  at  Forest  College.  He 
had,  it  is  true,  taken  neither  the  valedictory  nor 
the  salutatory,  but  he  had  won  a  medal  for  the 
best  essay,  his  subject  being,  "The  Needs  of  the 
New  South." 

This  article  had  been  so  highly  esteemed  by  a 
distinguished  Northern  editor,  selected  as  one 
of  the  Committee  to  award  the  prize,  that  he  had 
subsequently  published  it  in  one  of  the  leading 
magazines  of  the  country. 

It  was  a  beautiful,  balmy  June  day  when  Jer- 
ome left  Forest  College  for  Ansonville. 

He  was  so  anxious  to  see  Maxine,  who  had 
written  him  frequently  of  late,  that  he  could  not 
wait  for  the  slow  little  train  to  back  in  to  An- 
sonville. Accordingly  he  jumped  off  at  the  "Y," 
and  started  to  walk  the  remaining  quarter  of  a 
mile. 

His  heart  was  full  of  hope.  All  his  struggles 
— and  they  had  been  severe  struggles — to  com- 
plete his  college  course  were  behind  him  at  last. 
He  had  seen  little  of  Maxine  these  two  fleeting, 
yet  full,  years.    He  had  denied  himself  the  pleas- 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  175 

lire  of  her  presence,  meaning  to  demand  interest 
for  the  future.  In  a  hasty  interview  she  had 
told  him  why  she  had  formerly  refused  to  see 
him.  It  was  merely  to  test  him  and  to  secure  for 
him  a  season  of  peace,  during  which  he  might 
pursue  his  studies  without  interruption  from 
Gabriel  and  the  Banker.  Jerome  had  accepted 
that  explanation  as  perfectly  natural  and  satis- 
factory. 

The  Banker's  ban  still  remained.  But  to-day 
Jerome  had  determined  to  disregard  it.  It  was 
the  day  of  his  triumph,  the  day  of  days  when 
Maxine  was  to  give  him  her  promise  to  be  his 
wife.  This  day  love  would  laugh  at  bans  and 
bankers  as  it  laughed  at  locksmiths. 

A  long  lane  seemed  the  past — a  lane  without 
turning,  a  thorny  trail  of  sacrifice  and  struggle 
against  overwhelming  odds.  He  was  nearing 
the  end  of  it  now.  He  could  see  it  merging  into 
a  broad  highway  of  progress.  With  Maxine  at 
his  side  he  would  climb  the  mountain  to  the 
Pisgah  of  the  present,  that  he  might  gaze  across 
the  misty  vales  into  the  promised  land  of  the 
Future  South. 

He  could  almost  see  the  dreamy  love-light  in 
Maxine's  eyes.  How  it  would  beam  upon  him ! 
How  he  yearned  to  see  the  pearls  of  purity  and 
power  in  those  blue  seas!  She  had  refused  to 
express  her  love  for  him  to  enable  him  to  com- 
plete his  course  unhampered — that  was  all.  He 
realized  it  now  as  never  before.  She  was  the 
one  woman  among  a  thousand — among  ten  thou- 
sand— a  woman  whose  strength  had  not  stolen 
her  sweetness.    His  love  had  been  a  passion,  then 


176  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

a  principle.  Now  it  was  leaping  back  to  a  pas- 
sion deep  as  the  ocean  of  time — to  passion  prime- 
val, ere  the  voice  of  God  walked  among  the  Eden 
trees  in  the  cool  of  the  evening. 

Jerome  walked  rapidly  into  the  village,  but 
he  found  himself  wishing  that  his  feet  were  shod 
wnth  the  wings  of  Hermes. 

The  rattle  of  wheels  suddenly  averted  his  at- 
tention. Nearer,  nearer  it  came,  lengthening  into 
a  prolonged  whirr. 

His  heart  almost  stopped  as  the  buggy  drew 
near.  Its  occupants  were  Maxine  and  Gabriel 
Allen.  A  moment  later  they  dashed  by,  Maxine's 
face  pinched  and  pale.  She  spoke  to  Jerome  as 
they  passed,  but  he  heard  not,  and  stared  after 
the  disappearing  buggy  with  unseeing  eyes.  A 
little  while  afterwards  an  elderly  man,  whom  he 
recognized  as  the  Rev.  Peter  Colbrem,  pastor  of 
the  Presbyterian  Church  at  Ansonville,  drove  by, 
going  in  the  same  direction  Gabriel  had  taken. 

A  sickening  sensation  gripped  Jerome's  heart. 
What  coincidence  of  fate  had  flaunted  that  scene 
in  his  face  both  on  his  departure  for,  and  his 
return  from,  college?  This  then  was  to  be  his 
reward  ?  This  was  her  boasted  fidelity  !  She  who 
had  set  such  store  by  the  heritage  of  her  schol- 
arly forebear  had  finally  hugged  the  golden  feet 
of  Mammon.  Mr.  MacDonald  had  had  his  way, 
and — oh,  irony  of  fate! — on  the  very  day  of 
triumph.  All  the  years  of  toil,  of  discourage- 
ment, of  defeat,  of  dearly-bought  victory,  rose 
up  afresh  before  Jerome.  For  this  he  had 
Avaited  and  struggled  and  threaded  his  way, 
through  thorns  and  thistles,  to  be  deceived,  to  be 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  177 

jilted  for  a  worthless  jade.  His  heart  rebelled 
at  the  thought.  Why  not  sow  the  wind  and  reap 
the  whirlwind !  Was  life  a  hidden  sting — a  fraud 
in  flowers?  Enough  of  it;  he  would  be  no  hypo- 
critical bumble-bee  posing  in  pinks  and  lilies — he 
would  come  out  and  sting  the  world  openly,  and 
he  would  leave  the  sting,  leave  it  to  rot  and 
rankle  in  the  flesh,  if  he  died  for  it.  But  no.  he 
reasoned,  man  was  something  more  than  a  vin- 
dictive creature  with  pent-up  spleen.  He  was  a 
creature  superior  to  the  horned  brute  and  the 
daggered  insect.  The  strength  of  the  modern 
man  was  not  measured  by  brute  blows,  nor  by 
adroit  stings,  but  by  ability  to  exercise  self-con- 
trol. The  greater  coward  was  he  whose  anger 
mastered  him.  Then  Jerome  pulled  off  his  hat 
and,  baring  his  head  to  heaven,  resolved  that  he 
would  follow  the  path  of  honor  if  all  the  world 
went  false.  He  resolved  to  be  a  gentleman  to  the 
end  of  the  life-day. 

Late  in  the  evening,  foot-sore  and  weary,  he 
reached  Riverwood.  As  he  drew  near  the  Big 
Gate  old  Sam,  who  was  feeding  some  hogs  near- 
by, shambled  eagerly  forward  to  meet  him. 

"Bress  my  soul,  honey,  bress  my  soul,  is  dat 
you  ?  'Dun  graduwated  an'  walked  home  ?  Laws- 
a-massy,  why  didn't  you  tell  us  w'en  you  wuz 
a-cumin'  ?  Des  walkin'  home  like  po'  white  trash. 
My!  My!  My!" 

He  gathered  up  Jerome's  gripsack.  "Wat's 
de  matter,  is  yer  sick,  Marse  Romey,"  he  asked 
suddenly  in  a  tone  of  uneasiness  as  he  gazed  into 
the  young  man's  face. 

"No;  how  are  they  all?"  Jerome  gasped. 


178  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

"Dey's  all  well  'cept  yo'  pa ;  he's  got  de  room- 
itiz,  er  hit's  got  him,  I  dunno  which!" 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  have  you  been 
sick?"  The  question  sprang  spontaneously — 
almost  simultaneously  from  the  lips  of  Jerome's 
family. 

He  responded  that  he  was  quite  well. 

"It's  overstudy,  then,"  said  the  Colonel,  rais- 
ing himself,  not  without  a  twinge  of  pain  to  a 
more  comfortable  position  in  his  great  arm-chair. 
"Major  Graves  wrote  me  the  other  day  that  he 
was  specially  anxious  for  you  to  make  him  a 
visit.  And,  while  we  regret  to  give  you  up  so 
soon,  my  son,  I  really  think  it  will  help  you  to 
take  the  trip.  It  will  help  you  in  many  ways. 
Every  citizen  should  visit  at  least  the  great 
metropolis  of  his  country.  In  order  to  know  life 
you  must  see  it  in  all  its  flood,  and  feel  its  ebb 
and  flow." 

Jerome  heard  eagerly  what  his  father  had  said 
and  resolved  to  accept  the  Major's  invitation  in 
person. 

"Things  are  looking  up  on  the  plantation,"  the 
Colonel  continued.  "Sam's  boy,  Ben,  has  learned 
to  be  a  first-rate  farmer.  We  made  more  corn, 
cotton  and  tobacco  this  year  than  we've  ever 
made.  Give  me  that  Industral  Institute  for  a 
nigger  every  timiC,  if  it's  doing  work  like  the 
transformation  of  Ben." 

Three  days  later  Jerome  reached  New  York 
City.  He  had  asked  nothing  about  Gabriel  and 
Maxine  before  leaving  Ansonville.  He  had  re- 
solved to  drop  the  day  of  their  memory  from  the 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  179 

calendar  of  his  mind — to  blot  out  the  fact  of 
their  existence  from  the  pages  of  his  present, 
past  and  future. 

Major  Graves  was  not  at  the  station  to  meet 
him,  but  Jerome  had  his  address.  He  accord- 
ingly hailed  a  cab,  entered  and  settled  himself 
comfortably  in  the  seat  to  review  as  much  as  pos- 
sible the  buildings  along  the  streets  he  passed 
down. 

He  was  awed  by  the  magnitude  and  magnifi- 
cence of  the  city — its  towering  buildings  that 
seemed  to  scrape  the  sky,  its  hurrying  throngs, 
mingling  every  nation  of  the  globe  in  one  great 
maddening  maelstrom. 

Suddenly  a  shot  rang  out  and  a  murmur  like 
the  bellow  of  stampeding  steers  rose  from  the 
multitude.  Jerome's  cab  stopped  abruptly,  with 
a  jarring  jerk.  Almost  simultaneously  he  caught 
sight  of  a  fleeing  negro,  a  crowd  of  whites  close 
on  his  heels.  In  the  negro's  hand  was  a  smoking 
revolver.  Cries  of  "Stop  him!"  "Lynch  him!" 
"Kill  him!"  rent  the  air.  But  in  the  negro's  left 
hand  was  a  razor  and  the  crowd  fell  back  before 
him. 

The  negro  was  running  straight  toward  the 
cab  in  which  Jerome  was  seated  and.  with  a  start, 
Jerome  recognized  that  he  was  Bill,  old  Sam's 
son. 

The  memory  of  how  old  Sam  had  saved  him 
from  a  black  mob  surged  swiftly  back  to  Jerome's 
mind  and,  leaping  from  the  cab,  he  stood  await- 
ing Bill. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Jerome,  save  me !  Stop  them !  Save 
me,"  panted  the  negro.    Recognizing  Jerome,  he 


i8o  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

had  dashed  more  quickly  forward,  his  eyes  bright 
with  terror  and  vague  hope. 

"Throw  down  that  razor,  then!"  shouted 
Jerome.  Bill  did  as  he  was  bidden,  and  a  second 
later  stood  cowering  and  trembling  at  Jerome's 
side. 

"Get  in  this  cab,  quick!"  cried  Jerome,  push- 
ing the  negro  in  feet  foremost,  and  closing  the 
door  with  a  crash.  He  had  scarcely  done  so 
when  the  mob  was  at  his  heels. 

Tall,  sinewy,  strong,  he  wheeled  and  faced 
them,  deathless  determination  in  his  dark  eyes, 
his  lips  like  chilled  steel.  A  roar  of  baffled  rage 
rose  from  the  mob — a  babel  of  many  nations. 
Every  man's  hand  was  against  the  negro — 
against  Ishmael,  as  his  hand  was  against  them — 
and,  w^hite  man  or  no  white  man,  they  swore  to 
tear  the  negro  from  the  cab. 

With  a  courage  cool,  calculating  and  deter- 
mined, Jerome  quickly  told  them  that  they  should 
not.  One  man  against  a  hundred  he  stood,  but 
the  living  fire  that  had  always  lurked  in  his  pool- 
black  eyes  held  the  mob  in  check.  There  were 
men  of  greater  height  and  broader  girth  in  the 
mob  that  day  who  bowed  to  his  superior  will. 

Jerome  realized  that  he  could  not  long  con- 
trol the  mania  of  the  mob.  He  was  only  fight- 
ing for  time — 'till  the  police  could  rally. 

"Don't  you  know  he's  killed  an  officer?"  cried 
a  big  burly  man  with  a  beer  bottle. 

"I  don't  know  what  he's  done,"  replied  Jerome, 
"I  only  know  that  the  law  shall  be  allowed  to 
take  its  course.  I  am  not  trying  to  keep  him 
from  the  law,  but  from  the  mob." 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  i8i 

"Come  on,  boys,  let's  swing  him,  too !"  cried 
the  big  man,  leaping  forward;  "we'll  make  it  a 
double  hanging." 

The  crowd  cheered  and  followed  suit.  But  the 
big  man  suddenly  received  a  blow  in  the  face 
which  brought  him  low  like  the  boastful  Goliath, 
and  Jerome  was  just  preparing  to  administer  the 
same  treatment  to  another  one  when  the  mob 
melted  away  before  a  score  of  clubbing  police- 
men. 

Jerome  quickly  threw  open  the  cab-door,  pulled 
Bill  out  and  surrendered  him  to  them. 

"They'll  see  that  you  have  a  fair  trial,"  he 
said  to  the  negro,  "and  if  you  need  any  money 
to  employ  a  lawyer  I'll  get  it  for  you." 

Bill  gasped  his  gratitude. 

"You've  got  good  grit  in  you,  young  man, 
whoever  you  are,"  said  the  tall  captain  of  police, 
slapping  Jerome  on  the  shoulder.  "I  wish  we 
had  you  on  the  force." 

"Thank  you,"  returned  Jerome,  "I'm  glad  to 
have  been  of  service  to  you.  I  did  what  I  thought 
was  right." 

Then  the  patrol-wagon  rattled  off,  and  Jerome, 
entering  his  cab,  proceeded  on  his  way  to  Major 
Graves's  house. 

Next  morning  a  great  Metropolitan  daily  had 
this  headline: 

"SOUTHERNER  DEFENDS  NEGRO  FROM 
NORTHERN  MOB." 

"Eh,  what  are  we  coming  to,  Jerome?"  ex- 
claimed  Major   Graves,   holding  up   the  paper. 


l82  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

"  'Southerner    defends    negro     from    Northern 
mob!'    Did  you  ever  hear  of  such  a  thing?" 

"Yes,  I  saw  it." 

"Saw  what,  the  headhne?" 

"No,  the  scene." 

"What?" 

"I  was  there." 

"You  ?" 

"Yes,  I  was  the  Southerner,"  repHed  Jerome 
modestly. 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  183 


CHAPTER    XXV. 
"the  mills  of  the  gods/* 

One  who  chanced  to  see  Mr.  Hector  MacDon- 
ald  on  a  certain  day  in  July  would  have  noticed 
striking  changes  in  his  appearance.  His  smooth- 
shaven  face  was  thinner  than  usual  and  noticeably 
wrinkled  and  careworn.  Much  of  his  cool,  cal- 
culating attitude  had  been  lost ;  he  was  almost  a 
nervous  wreck.  The  strain  of  the  desperate  game 
which  he  had  been  playing  with  fortune  and  mis- 
fortune had  sapped  his  strength.  The  Wall 
Street  speculations  had  long  been  going  against 
him;  he  had  reached  the  ebb  of  his  golden  tide. 
Still,  like  the  desperate  gambler,  he  was  always 
hoping  for  a  lucky  turn,  comforting  his  perturbed 
spirit  with  original  proverbs,  such  as  "It's  an  ill 
Bear  that  growls  nobody  good,"  etc. 

For  another  reason,  too,  the  Banker  had  con- 
tinued to  speculate;  that  whenever  one  gets  en- 
tangled in  the  intricate  meshes  of  the  great  Wall 
Street  net  one  never  knows  how  to  get  out. 

Mr.  MacDonald  had  depended  on  a  fortunate 
rise  in  cotton. 

"We  must  make  a  big  throw  to-day,"  he  said 

to  Gabriel  one  evening.     "Everything  is  ripe  for 

it.    We'll  yet  make  a  big  haul.    What  say  you?" 

^  .  "It's  high  time  we  were  doing  something," 


184  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

growled  Gabriel,  who  had  just  received  a  rebuff 
from  an  unexpected  quarter  and  was,  therefore, 
in  no  great  good  humor. 

Accordingly,  the  Banker  cast  his  bank  bills,  or 
the  bank  bills  of  his  depositors,  upon  the  "water." 
He  was  confident  of  a  "big  haul."  He  had  su- 
preme confidence  in  "Poindexter  &  Co.,"  his 
agents.  They  were  old  and  reliable.  They  knew 
all  the  wiles  and  whims  of  the  "Bulls  and  Bears." 
They  had  always  kept  Mr.  MacDonald  fully 
posted. 

But  shortly  after  this  deposit  (which  was  by 
far  the  largest  he  had  made  with  them),  "Poin- 
dexter &  Co."  went  to  the  wall.  The  news  came 
to  Mr.  MacDonald  like  a  thunderclap  from  a  clear 
sky.  It  almost  prostrated  him.  His  eyes  receded 
in  his  head,  his  face  became  colorless  and  flabby. 
He  knew  that  he  was  doomed.  The  figures  on 
the  wall-paper  of  his  sanctum  changed  form 
again;  this  time  they  became  long  bars  of  white 
and  black,  like  the  stripes  of  felons.  Almost  on 
the  heels  of  the  Wall  Street  disaster  the  State 
Bank  Examiner  arrived  in  Ansonville.  He  was 
the  pale  cashier  whom  Mr.  MacDonald  had  dis- 
charged, and  the  Banker  knew  what  the  rigid 
examination  would  reveal. 

Owing  to  the  lateness  of  the  train,  it  was  night 
when  the  Bank  Examiner  arrived,  and  the  ex- 
amination was,  therefore,  postponed  'till  next 
morning.  Mr.  MacDonald,  having  learned  from 
Ananias  Blake  that  the  Bank  Examiner  had  ar- 
rived, hurriedly  summoned  Gabriel  to  his  pri- 
vate office. 

"We've  got  to  get  away  from  here,  or  else  go 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  185 

to  the  Penitentiary,"  said  Mr.  MacDonald  with  a 
strangling  sigh.  "We  have  only  $500  in  the 
bank.     Let's  divide  and  skip." 

"Hold  on,  old  man,"  observed  Gabriel  brutally. 
"You  haven't  toted  fair  with  me.  You  got  me  into 
this  business;  you  got  me  to  ruin  my  old  daddy, 
and  you  ain't  offering  me  but  $250  for  it.  You've 
frequently  promised  to  make  Maxine  marry  me 
and  as  frequently  broken  your  word.  Marriage 
with  her  is  now  my  only  means  of  getting  any 
money.  She's  got  property  apart  from  what 
you  embezzled  from  her" — the  Banker's  pallid 
face  showed  a  stain  of  color  at  this  charge — "and 
I  am  going  to  have  it." 

He  suddenly  rose  and  pressed  a  pistol  to  the 
Banker's  temple.  "Now,  come  right  along  and 
tell  that  contrary  niece  of  yours  what  she's  got 
to  do.  I'm  a  desperate  man,  and  if  you  cross 
me  you  die." 

Mr.  MacDonald  started  visibly,  his  flabby  jaw 
dropped,  his  teeth  chattered.  "Why— what— has 
— possessed — you — Gabriel?"  he  gasped. 

"The  devil — you — but  you  don't  possess  me 
any  more.  I'm  going  to  be  my  own  boss  awhile 
— and  Maxine's." 

He  took  the  Banker  roughly  by  the  shoulder. 
"Come  on  and  let's  fix  up  the  fun.  We'll  take 
along  Ananias  Blake,  J.  P." 

Mr.  MacDonald  rose  tremblingly,  picked  up  his 
hat  and  followed  Gabriel  out  into  the  street. 

At  the  corner  they  were  joined  by  Ananias 
Blake.  Gabriel's  stride  and  that  of  Ananias  was 
steady  and  strong,  the  Banker's   faltering  and 


i86  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

feeble,  his  cane  careening  on  the  loose  boards  of 
the  sidewalk. 

They  silently  entered  the  Banker's  house  like 
black  birds  of  ill-omen. 

Maxine  was  seated  in  the  parlor  reading  a 
magazine.    She  rose  stiffly  as  they  filed  in. 

"Maxine,"  the  Banker  began  abruptly,  sum- 
moning up  all  his  failing  strength,  "we've  come 
to  marry  you  to  Gabriel." 

"To  marry  me  to  Gabriel?"  she  echoed.  "You 
are  thoughtful,  uncle.  It  is  kind  of  you  to  tell 
me.  I  might  not  have  had  time  to  arrange  my 
trousseau." 

Tall  and  graceful  she  confronted  them,  her 
fair  cheeks  shot  through  with  color. 

"Oh,  it  don't  matter  about  the  trousseau,"  Ga- 
briel broke  in  impatiently.  "Come,  Ananias,  get 
your  ceremony  ready." 

"What  ceremony,  sir!"  Maxine  cried,  her 
bosom  heaving,  her  eyes  blazing  with  half  con- 
trolled anger.  "I  am  aware  of  no  ceremony  in 
which  I  am  in  the  slightest  degree  interested.  I 
am  surprised,  uncle,"  she  went  on,  turning  to 
Mr.  MacDonald,  "that  you  allow  me  to  be  in- 
sulted in  your  own  house,  and  before  your  eyes." 

"You  haven't  any  license,  Gabriel,"  whined 
the  Banker,  catching  at  the  last  straw. 

"Haven't  I  ?"  cried  Gabriel,  pulling  an  official 
envelope  from  his  pocket,  "well,  this  tells  an- 
other tale.  Come  on,  Maxine,"  he  continued,  "I 
am  not  going  to  have  any  foolishness  to-night." 

He  took  a  step  forward. 

"You  earth  scum!"  she  cried,  her  beautiful 
eyes  aflame  with  infinite  scorn.     "Do  you  think 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  187 

you  can  frighten  me,  coward !"  Her  hand  fell 
swiftly  to  her  side,  and  from  her  girdle  she  re- 
moved an  exquisite  pearl-handled  penknife.  "I 
do  not  fear  death.  Why  should  I  fear  you? 
Only  this — death — is  preferable  to  you." 

"Maxy!  Maxy!"  remonstrated  Mr.  MacDon- 
ald,  his  face  purple  from  the  nervous  strain  he 
was  undergoing,  "try  to  be  reasonable,  dear.  Ga- 
briel only  means  to  do  right.    He  loves  you " 

"I  hate  him !"  she  exclaimed,  stamping  her 
foot.     "I  would  sooner  love  a  frog." 

"You  hate  me,  then !"  Gabriel  cried,  a  terrible 
expression  in  his  eyes.  "Take  that  back  or  die !" 
He  drew  a  pistol  and  leveled  it  at  her  heart. 
Ananias  Blake's  earth-colored  face  faded  to  a 
lifeless  gray;  he  stood  rooted  to  the  floor,  para- 
lyzed in  every  limb.  But  the  Banker,  with  a  last 
noble  impulse — the  supreme  cleaving  of  blood 
to  blood — grasped  Gabriel's  arm,  and  with  all 
his  feeble  strength,  sought  to  wrest  the  pistol 
from  him.  In  some  way.  whether  intentionally 
or  not  was  never  known,  the  weapon  discharged, 
the  ball  entering  the  Banker's  breast.  He  sank 
to  the  floor  with  a  groan,  the  blood  weltering 
from  the  wound.  He  tried  to  speak,  but  his  voice 
sank  with  a  gurgling  gasp.  A  convulsive  shud- 
der passed  through  his  frame,  and  he  was  dead. 
He  had  robbed  the  pale  cashier  of  his  triumph, 
and  gone  up  to  face  his  record  on  the  greater 
book. 

Maxine  had  fainted  and  lay  upon  the  floor. 

Gabriel  threw  the  pistol  beside  her  and,  in  com- 
pany with  Ananias,  rushed  from  the  room  and 


iS8  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

ran  rapidly  down  the  street.  Near  a  crossing 
they  passed  a  man  who  was  coming  towards  the 
Banker's  house. 

In  the  glittering  glare  of  a  nearby  street  lamp 
they  recognized  the  Bank  Examiner.  He  recog- 
nized them,  too,  but  beneath  the  cover  of  the 
night  they  were  soon  far  from  possible  pur- 
suers. 

^  ^  ^  ^  :|c  :|c  :)( 

The  Coroner's  Jury  summoned  to  hold  an  in- 
quest over  the  Banker's  body  reported : 

"We  find  that  Hector  MacDonald  came  to  his 
death  from  a  pistol-shot  wound  at  the  hands  of 
one  Gabriel  Allen." 

The  conclusion  was  reached  by  the  jury  on 
evidence  given  by  the  State  Bank  Examiner  and 
the  merchant  who  had  sold  Gabriel  Allen  a  pistol 
and  cartridges.  It  was  further  substantiated  by 
the  Register  of  Deeds,  who  swore  that  Gabriel 
had  purchased  a  marriage  license  the  evening  be- 
fore the  tragedy. 

Neither  Gabriel  nor  Ananias  Blake  could  be 
found. 

Maxine  was  therefore  fully  exonerated  from 
even  a  suspicion  of  complicity  in  the  crime,  it 
being  generally  known  that  she  had  repeatedly 
refused  to  marry  Gabriel. 

A  careful  examination  of  the  bank  revealed 
the  fact  that  Doctor  Allen  and  other  large  de- 
positors had  been  robbed  of  all  they  had  on 
deposit. 

The  Doctor  was  almost  beside  himself  with 
rage.    He  had  recently  deposited  a  large  stun, 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  189 

having  mortgaged  Rocky  Heights  to  buy  a  valu- 
able body  of  timber  land,  which  he  meant  to  sell 
to  a  syndicate.  The  owner  of  the  land  was  down 
South  on  business  and  Doctor  Allen  had  merely 
deposited  the  money  for  safe-keeping. 

The  mortgage  on  Rocky  Heights  was  held  by 
a  crusty  old  miser  who  would  certainly  foreclose. 
The  Doctor  discovered  later  that  the  Brandon 
Place  had  been  "salted,"  and  possessed  no  gold- 
bearing  quartz  at  all.  He  was  eventually  forced 
to  give  up  Rocky  Heights  and  move  to  Anson- 
ville,  where  he  spent  the  remainder  of  his  days 
in  a  little  tenement  house. 

Shortly  after  the  Banker's  burial  Maxine  had 
received  a  letter  from  Major  Graves,  urging  her 
to  come  to  New  York  and  make  her  home  with 
him.  His  house  was  kept  by  a  maiden  sister — 
a  most  companionable  woman,  despite  her  spin- 
stership — and  Maxine  consented  to  go. 

It  was  not  without  a  severe  struggle,  however, 
that  she  turned  her  face  from  the  South.  It  was 
doubly  dear  to  her — her  birthplace  and  birth- 
right. Moreover,  it  was  the  land  of  his  hope. 
Fate  had  been  cruel  to  her — had  by  unusual  cir- 
cumstances plucked  from  her  the  idol  of  her 
soul. 

Very  sadly  she  packed  her  trunks,  lingering 
over  every  little  faded  flower,  every  little  keep- 
sake, bedewing  them  with  tears. 

Major  Graves  met  her  at  the  station.  "So 
you've  given  up  your  Southern  sweetheart  to  be 
a  Yankee  girl!"  he  laughed  when  they  were 
seated  in  his  carriage. 


IQO  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

"Oh,  no;  he  gave  me  up,"  she  sighed,  striving 
hard  to  look  unconcerned. 

Must  she  tell  the  kind  old  Major  of  her  sor- 
row? He  was  so  tenderly  sympathetic  always. 
No,  she  would  not  tell  him.  He  was  getting  too 
old  to  bear  added  burdens.  She  would  not  con- 
fide in  him — yet. 

"Where  is  Jerome?"  the  Major  queried,  look- 
ing innocently  at  Maxine. 

"Indeed,  I  do  not  know,  Major  Graves,"  she 
replied  with  a  half  pleading  expression  in  her 
face. 

She  gave  a  sigh  of  relief  when  she  reached  the 
Major's  residence  and  was  shown  to  her  room. 

Some  time  later  she  was  ushered  into  the 
parlor,  a  large,  cool  room,  more  elegant  and  at- 
tractive than  anything  she  had  ever  seen.  Her 
heart  throbbed  painfully  as  her  eyes  fell  upon  a 

life-size  photograph  of  Jerome. 

*  *  *  *  *  *  * 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  the  city  now?" 
asked  the  Major,  as  a  handsome  young  man  en- 
tered the  hall  door.  (The  Major  had  been  pa- 
tiently lying  in  wait.) 

"Really,  Major,"  the  young  man  returned 
moodily,  "I  found  nothing  in  it  to  interest  me — 
absolutely  nothing." 

"Eh!  no  pretty  women?" 

"No." 

"Come  on,  then,"  continued  the  Major,  taking 
him  by  the  arm,  "I  want  to  introduce  you  to  a 
young  lady  friend  of  mine.  And  if  she  doesn't 
interest  you  I'll  give  you  my  sugar  refinery." 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  191 

"I  am  not  hunting  anything  sweet  like" — be- 
fore he  could  finish  the  sentence  he  was  in  the 
parlor,  the  Major  having  pushed  him  forward 
and  shut  him  in. 

With  a  little  cry  of  surprise  and  delight  Max- 
ine  rose  and  came  forward. 

Jerom.e  stared  at  her  coldly.  "What  does  this 
mean?"  he  said  harshly.  "Is  this  some  cruel  jest 
you  seek  to  play  upon  me?  Is  Gabriel — is  your 
husband  here,  madam?" 

"I  do  not  understand  you,"  she  cried,  falling 
back  a  pace.  "Do  you  think  I  would  marry 
that  earth-scum?  If  you  do  you  are  unwelcome 
in  my  presence.  If  you  had  not  been  so  hasty 
you  might  have  learned  why  I  was  with  him  on 
the  day  of  your  return  from  college.  I  could 
not  refuse  the  request  of  his  dying  sister.  There 
was  no  other  way  for  me  to  go.     I " 

Jerome  sprang  quickly  forward  and  smothered 
the  sentence  in  the  sheltering  circlet  of  his  strong 
arms.  "My  own  Maxine,  my  darling!"  he 
breathed,  kissing  her  rose-red  lips,  "forgive  me, 
and  I  will  never  again  misjudge  you.  And  now 
that  I  ask  you  what  never  before  you  would  per- 
mit me  to  ask  you — to  be  my  wife — what  is  your 
answer  ?" 

She  was  silent,  resting  her  fair  head  contented- 
ly upon  his  broad  bosom. 

"How  shall  I  know  that  you  love  me,  Maxine?" 
he  continued   impatiently. 

For  answer  she  clasped  her  soft  white  arms 
about  his  neck  and  slowly  drew  his  lips  down  to 
hers. 


192  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

A  radiant  glow  shone  in  her  face.  A  Hght,  soft 
as  that  which  kisses  a  summer  sea,  stole  into  the 
depths  of  her  blue  eyes  and  faded  not  again. 
And  it  was  as  if  the  ancient  scholar  had  seen  the 
travail  of  his  soul  and  been  satisfied. 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  193 


'    EPILOGUE. 

A  master  hand  has  touched  and  transformed 
the  estate  of  River  wood.  On  every  side  one  sees 
unmistakable  signs  of  prosperity  and  progress. 
Never  before  have  its  broad  acres  been  so  pro- 
ductive— a  mute  but  mighty  testimony  to  the 
value  of  the  scientific  farming  typical  of  a  new 
and  greater  South. 

But  time — the  great  driving  wheel  of  the  cen- 
turies— has  not  yet  crushed  the  heart  of  the  old 
mansion.  It  stands,  as  it  did  of  yore,  stately  and 
grand,  amid  its  mighty  oaks,  like  a  battle-driven 
warrior  amid  his  old  guard,  frowning  down  upon 
the  glittering  vanguard  of  a  new  and  stronger 
generation. 

The  Colonel,  too,  like  his  ancient  habitation, 
yet  preserves  the  courtly  customs  and  princely 
dignity  of  the  olden  days.  His  heart  is  with  the 
Old  South,  and  his  dreams  are  of  the  past. 

Often  now,  as  old  men  will,  he  sits  dozing  in 
the  warm  golden  light  which  floods  his  wide 
veranda.  Sometimes  he  will  start  suddenly,  fling 
back  his  fine  old  Bourbon  head,  square  his  broad 
shoulders,  and  springing  to  his  feet,  stand  for  a 
moment  "at  attention,"  the  fires  of  '61  leaping 
in  his  blue  eyes.  Then,  as  the  familiar  figure  of 
an  aged  negro,  wrinkled,  worn  and  bent,  ap- 
proaches him  softly,  hat  in  hand,  with  the  studied 


194 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great 


dignity  of  the  ante-bellum  slave,  he  will  smile  and 
murmur  sadly:  "Ah,  Sam,  I  was  dreaming  of 
General  Lee.  We  are  getting  old,  Sam,  old  fel- 
low ;  we're  getting  old  and  fogy,  you  and  I. 
We're  behind  the  times.  They're  too  fast  for  us, 
Sam.    But  we'll  soon  be  gone." 

An  ill-concealed  note,  half  of  longing  and  half 
of  joy,  lingers  in  the  last  words,  and  it  is  not  lost 
upon  the  former  slave. 

"Yas,  IMarse  Bob,"  he  replies  in  a  thin,  child- 
like treble,  "we'se  sho'  nuf  gittin'  ole.  An'  ef  we 
do'n'  hurry  an'  git  out'n  dis  heah  worl',  we'se 
gwiner  git  run  ovah  by  er — by  er — snortermobile. 
Ev'thing  is  sho'  changed  'roun'.  De  bottum  rail's 
on  de  top  an'  de  top  rail  on  de  bottum.  Yassir, 
ev'n  de  niggers  ain'  lak  dey  uster  be.  Dey's  all 
lef  de  country  an'  gone  ter  town,  an'  dey's  all 
studyin'  fer  ter  dodge  Ole  Man  *W'uk.  An'  I 
sho'  hopes  Gin'ul  Booker  Washington  '11  larn  'em 
somethin'  'bout  'dustrul  eddication.  De  only 
dust  dey  raises  dese  days  is  de  dust  dey  raises 
wid  dey  heels  w'en  dey's  leavin'  de  fa'm.  Cla'r 
ter  grashus,  Marse  Bob,  I'se  mos'  'feard  I'll 
wake  up  wun  no  dese  mo'nin's  an'  fin'  mase'f 
whitewashed." 

But  when  the  time  draws  near  for  Major 
Graves'  annual  visit  to  Riverwood,  the  Colonel 
seems  imbued  with  the  elixir  vitcB  of  the  olden 
days. 

It  is  on  the  long  winter  nights,  when  a  won- 
derful fire  of  oak  logs  roars  merrily  in  the  quaint, 
wide  fireplace,  that  the  graybeards  are  in  their 

*Work. 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  195 

glory.  Then  they  sit  for  hours  smoking  and 
"swapping  yarns."  And  as  the  conversation 
drifts  back  into  the  days  of  auld  lang  syne  (for 
old  men  are  reminiscent  or  nothing),  the  ghosts 
of  departed  glory  seem  to  take  form  from  fancy 
and  the  filmy  blue  wreaths  of  smoke,  and  to  live 
again. 

Between  the  two  friends  the  years  have  forged 
still  stronger  links  of  love.  Jerome's  and  Max- 
ine's  children  call  them  grandfather  alike,  and  in 
the  presence  of  this  new  generation  all  the  bitter- 
ness of  the  past  merges  and  melts  into  one  com- 
mon country  and  one  common  cause.  , 

The  old  ferry  has  gone  from  the  Pee  Dee.  A 
magnificent  iron  bridge  has  supplanted  it,  and 
one  will  call  in  vain  for  Jeffries.  But  he  may  be 
seen  almost  any  day  riding  through  the  great 
estate  of  Riverwood,  of  which  he  is  the  vigilant 
and  capable  overseer.  He  says,  "Riverwood's 
jist  gotter  be  the  banner  plantation  in  the  South, 
because  Romey  Watkins  give  up  a  chance  ter  be 
governor  an'  senator  ter  come  back  there." 

Another  sound — the  rush  and  roar  of  flying 
spindles — has  supplanted  the  thunderous  boom 
of  the  river.  This  mill,  which  has  more  spindles 
than  any  mill  in  the  South,  has  come  to  crown 
with  reality  of  assured  success  the  so-called  idle 
dream  of  a  country  youth. 

This  mill,  too,  is  a  model  of  its  kind.  In  it  the 
crime  of  child  labor  has  never  been  committed. 
The  President,  who  is  a  man  of  courage-colored 
convictions,  says  it  never  shall  be.  Quite  recently 
the  legislature  of  his  State  voiced  its  hearty  ap- 


196  The  Girdle  of  the  Great 

proval  of  his  course  by  enacting  a  humane  and 
much-needed  child-labor  law. 

The  President  of  the  mill  is  what  is  called  in 
the  South  a  "stickler"  for  skilled  labor.  He  be- 
lieves with  all  his  soul  that  skilled  labor  is  as 
much  the  product  of  mind  as  of  muscle.  He  has 
therefore  arranged  for  his  operatives  to  enjoy 
exceptional  advantages  of  study  and  self -culture. 
Also  he  knows  his  employees  by  name,  and  takes 
a  personal  interest  in  their  welfare.  By  this 
means  he  has  been  enabled  to  check  the  drift  to 
other  mills.  His  mill  is  sometimes  laughingly  re- 
ferred to  as  the  "Utopia  Mill,"  but  its  output, 
both  as  regards  quantity  and  quality,  is  second  to 
none  in  the  South.  The  contented  condition  of 
its  operatives  is  in  manufacturing  circles  a  matter 
of  common  knowledge. 

The  ruling  genius  of  all  this  progress  is  still 
a  young  man.  Tall,  sinewy,  straight  as  an  Indian, 
with  a  gleam  of  good  humor  in  his  dark  eyes  to 
soften  the  sternness  of  his  strong,  square  chin, 
he  looks  the  captain  of  industry  that  he  is.  He  is 
master  of  every  detail  of  his  business.  He  seems 
a  dynamo  of  tireless  energy.  Major  Graves,  one 
of  the  directors  of  the  mill,  sometimes  calls  him 
a  "Southern  Yankee."  At  any  rate,  he  keeps  his 
hand  upon  the  throttle  of  a  great  opportunity, 
and  his  face  to  the  future. 

His  friends  sometimes  call  him  a  crank.  With- 
out an  equal  on  the  hustings,  he  has  arisen 
clarion-voiced  in  great  crises  and  called  his 
people  to  victory,  then  retired  modestly  as  a 
woman  to  his  plantation,  where,  Cinginnatus  like, 
he  resumed  his  labors. 


The  Girdle  of  the  Great  197 

The  State,  in  her  great  industrial  and  intellec- 
tual awakening,  has  offered  him  her  highest  seat 
of  honor,  but  he  has  not  heard  with  the  alacrity 
of  the  professional  politician  whose  ears  are  tall 
enough  to  catch  the  slightest  sound.  Perhaps  he 
will  never  hear.  Perhaps  he  loves  the  field  and 
factory  too  well  to  exchange  them  for  the  toga 
and  toothpick  of  a  senator. 

But  there  is  one  call  that  he  dares  not,  cares 
not,  disobey.  It  is  a  call  that  he  longs  for,  listens 
for,  as  anxiously,  as  ardently,  as  any  lover.  It  is 
when  Maxine,  his  wife,  the  soul  of  his  success, 
calls  in  a  voice,  silvery  and  sweet  as  of  yore : 
"Come,  Jerome,  dear;  you're  all  tired  out.  Let 
us  walk  home  through  the  fields." 


END. 


Sam  S.  &  Lee  Shubert 

direct  the  following  theatres  and  theatrical 
attractions  in  America : 


Hippodrome,  Lyric,  Casino, 
DaljB,  Lew  Fields,  Herald 
Square  and  Princess  Thea- 
tres, New  York. 

Garrick  Theatre,  Chicago. 

Lyric  Theatre,  Philadelphia. 

Shubert  Theatre,  Brooklyn. 

Belasco  Theatre,  Washing- 
ton. 

Belasco  Theatre,  Pittsburg. 

Shubert  Theatre,  Newark. 

Shubert  Theatre,  Utica. 

Grand  Opera  House,  Syra- 
ciise. 

Baker  Theatre,  Rochester. 

Opera  Hou^e,  Providence. 

Worcester  Theatre,  Worces- 
ter. 

Hyperion  Theatre,  New 
Haven. 

Lyceum  Theatre,  Buffalo. 

Colonial  Theatre,  Cleveland. 

Rand't  Opera  House,  Troy, 

Garrick  Theatre,  St,  Louis, 

Sam  S,  Shubert  Theatre, 
Norfolk,  Va. 

Shubert  Theatre,  Columbus, 

Lyric,  Cincinnati, 


Mary     Anderson     Theatre, 
Louisville. 

New    Theatre,     Richmond, 
Va. 

New  Theatre,  Lexington,  Ky. 

New  Theatre,  Mobile. 

New  Theatre,  Atlanta. 

Shubert    Theatre,    Milwau- 
kee. 

Lyric  Theatre,  New  Orleans. 

New       Marlowe      Theatre, 
Chattanooga. 

New  Theatre,  Detroit, 

Grand   Opera    House,   Dav- 
enport, Iowa. 

New  Theatre,  Toronto," 

New  Sothern  Theatre,  Den- 
ver, 

Sam    S.    Shubert    Theatre, 
Kansas  City. 

Majestic  Theatre,    Los  An- 
geles, 

Belasco  Theatre,  Portland. 

Shubert  Theatre,  Seattle. 

Majestic  Theatre,  San  Fran- 
cisco. 

E.  H.  Sothern  &  Julia  Mar- 
lowe in  repertoire. 


Margaret  Anglin  and  Hemy 
Miller. 

Virginia  Harned. 

Mary  Mannering  in  "  Glori- 
ous Betsy." 

Mme.  Alia  Nazimova. 

Thos.    W.    Ross   in    "The 
Other  Girl." 

Cecelia  Loftus. 

Clara  Bloodgood. 

Blanche  King. 

Alexander  Carr. 

Digby  Bell. 

"The     Girl     Behind     the 
Counter." 

"The  Light  Eternal.» 

"The  Snow  Man." 

Blanche  Bates  in  "  The  Girl 
from  the  Golden  West." 

Darid    Warfield    in    "The 

Music  Master." 
"  The  Rose  of  the  Rancho," 

with  Rose  Starr. 

Harrison    Gray    Piskb's 
Attractions. 

Mrs.   Fiske  in  "The    New 
York  Idea." 


*  Shore  Acres." 

Louis  Mann  in  "The  White 
Hen." 

"The  Road  to  Yesterday." 

Henry  Woodrufif  in  "  Brown 
of  Harvard." 

"The  Secret  Orchard,"  by 
Channing  Pollock. 

De  Wolf  Hopper  in   "Hap- 
py land." 

Eddie  Foy  in  "  The  Orchid." 

Marguerite  Clark,  in  a  new 
opera. 

"The   Social  Whirl,"  with 
Chas.  J.  Ross. 

James  T.   Powers  in  "The 
Blue  Moon." 

Bertha  Kalich. 
"Leah  Kleschna." 

"The  Man  on  the  Box." 

Cyril  Scott  in  "  The  Prince 
Chap."  ' 

"  Mrs.  Temple's  Telegram." 

"  The  Three  of  Us." 


^ 


You  cannot  go  wrong  in  selecting  one  of 
tliese  play-houses  for  an  evening's  entertain- 
ment in  whatever  city  you  may  happen  to  be. 


iisssa 


